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THE    COUNTESS    DIANE 


UNIT.  OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELE9 


T>A; 


HOW   DO  I   LOOK:-'    SMK  ASKK1V 


iane> 


If&istrations  &Decoratiops 


Grosset  &  'Dunlap 

Publishers 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
THE     CURTIS     PUBLISHING     COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY 
DODD,    MEAD    &    COMPANY 

Published,  October,  1908 


Stack 

Annex 

PS 

35-35 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


.. . 


How  do  I  look?'  she  asked"  Frontispiece 

Deane  facing  page     34 

Kharkof  "         «      102 

Smallej  «         «      130 


OT  far  from  the  point  of  Mous- 

\7'     terlin,  which  is  west  of  Beg-Meil, 

there  lies  a  stretch  of  Breton  beach 

which  the  summer  folk  have  not 

yet  invaded.    It  is  a  wild  and  romantic  strip 

of  rock  and  sand  with  low,  tumbling  cliffs 

inclosing  sheltered  coves  no  bigger  than  the 

inside  of  a  church.    Behind  the  cliffs  and, 

in  places,  coming  down  to  the  sea  itself,  are 

the  fertile  farm  lands,  dotted  with  orchards 

and  cut  with  deep,  winding  lanes  fringed 

with  double  rows  of  pollards. 

There  are  some  quaint  old  farms  along 
this  beach;  buildings  of  solid  granite  and 
built  ever  with  an  eye  to  strong  defense,  with 
battlemented  roofs  and  embrasures  for  bow 
or  harquebus.  It  was  such  an  old  place  that 
Mr.  Archibald  Bower  Deane,  an  American 
by  birth  and  an  artist  by  alleged  occupation, 
had  rented  for  a  span  of  years  as  a  sort  of 
refuge  to  which  he  might  retreat  for  the 
simple  life  when  overworked  by  a  tempestu 
ous  season  in  Paris,  Nice  or  Monte  Carlo. 


The  Countess  Diane 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  Breton  farm  was 
the  only  place  in  which  Deane  ever  really 
worked,  and  his  output  from  there  had  been 
considerable  and  meritorious.  He  had  con 
verted  to  his  own  use  two  of  the  outbuild 
ings,  one  as  a  studio  and  the  other  to  live  in ; 
the  rest  of  the  farm  he  turned  over  to  an  old 
peasant  couple,  with  a  large  and  robust  fam 
ily  of  red-cheeked  girls,  who  farmed  the 
place  to  their  profit  and  catered  to  the  sim 
ple  wants  of  Mr.  Deane.  It  was  not  a  busi 
nesslike  arrangement,  but,  none  the  less,  was 
quite  satisfactory  to  all  concerned. 

For  almost  a  year  Mr.  Deane  had  not  vis 
ited  his  farm,  having  been  in  America  to 
vote,  as  he  told  his  friends ;  therefore,  imag 
ine  his  rage  and  dismay  on  returning  in  July 
to  find,  about  half  a  mile  below  his  beach, 
reared  on  the  edge  of  the  sand-dunes,  a  new 
and  singularly  ugly  villa  of  the  hideous 
modern  French  type,  glittering  with  blatant 
faience  tiles  of  every  color  that  was  bad! 
Lank  and  tall  and  angular,  this  architectural 
atrocity  reared  its  painted  iron  crest  from 
the  soft,  rolling  sand-hills  like  some  uncouth 
beast  which  had  alighted  from  another 

2 


The  Countess  Diane 

world.  To  make  matters  worse,  the  misshapen 
thing  seemed  penned  within  a  wall  of  sand 
and  cement,  plastered  with  dirty  shells  and 
capped  by  a  chevaux-de-frise  of  bottle-glass. 
Whether  the  object  of  this  wall  was  to  pre 
vent  those  within  from  getting  out  or  those 
without  from  getting  in  was  the  only  inter 
esting  feature  of  the  whole  establishment, 
and  even  that  seemed  easy  to  answer.  One 
could  not  conceive  of  any  desire  to  get  in; 
the  outside  was  sufficient. 

When  Deane  first  set  eyes  upon  his  neigh 
bor  he  stopped  dead  in  his  tracks  and  stared, 
for  the  moment  quite  deprived  of  speech. 
Then,  slowly  and  sincerely,  with  classic  Eng 
lish  words  he  consigned  himself  to  everlast 
ing  torment. 

"  Whee,  M'sieu'! "  said  Corentine,  one  of 
the  buxom  farm  girls,  who  was  swinging 
easily  along  with  Deane's  trunk  upon  her 
head.  "Is  it  not  a  beautiful  house!  Never 
I  have  seen  such  colors! " 

"Nor  I,"  said  Deane  solemnly.  "Who 
did  it?" 

"  It  is  the  property  of  Per  Guillenec,  who 
owns  all  of  the  land  toward  Benodet,  and  it 

4 


The  Countess  Diane 

is  the  design  of  his  son,  Ba'zour,  who  has 
been  studying  in  architecture." 

"  It  looks  it,"  said  Deane.  So  great  was 
his  disgust  that  for  the  moment  he  was  half 
minded  to  leave  his  luggage  unpacked  and 
return  to  Paris  the  following  day. 

"  Of  course,  no  one  lives  there,"  he  ob 
served  to  the  peasant  girl.  It  seemed  to  the 
artist  as  if  a  hungry  dog  would  flee  howling 
at  the  sight  of  the  house. 

"  Mais  whee ',  M'sieu"  The  fresh-cheeked 
Corentine  turned  and  smiled  at  him  from 
beneath  the  trunk.  "M'sieu'  will  have 
neighbors,  but  it  is  true  that  so  far  one  has 
seen  little  of  them.  There  are  four:  old 
M'sieu',  a  man  older  even  than  Per  Guille- 
nec,  and  old  Madame;  then  there  is  an  old 
man-servant  and "  —  Corentine's  dark  eyes 
sparkled  mischievously  —  "  the  beautiful 
young  lady." 

"  The — what?  "  demanded  Deane,  holding 
the  door  of  his  cottage  open  for  the  girl  to 
pass  through. 

"Hu'it"  Corentine  swung  down  the 
heavy  trunk  as  lightly  as  if  it  had  been  a 
sack  of  grain,  straightened  her  back,  threw 

4 


The  Countess  Diane 

out  her  bosom,  and  placing  her  hands  on  her 
hips  looked  at  the  master  and  laughed. 

"Gaste!  M'sieu'  is  interested!"  She 
nodded  her  coiffed  head  until  the  frills 
shook.  "  Whee — there  is  a  very  beautiful 
young  lady — but  one  seldom  sees  her  be 
cause  she  goes  out  only  very  early  and  again 
at  twilight,  but"-— she  laughed  again—  "she 
is  never  unattended.  It  is  a  pity!  Shall  I 
unpack  M'sieu's  trunk?" 

'Yes.  What  makes  you  think  that  this 
young  lady  must  be  beautiful,  Corentine? 
Because  she  is  so  hard  to  see?" 

"Ah,  M'sieu',  I  have  seen  her  three  times 
— la-la-la — what  pretty,  new  shirts  has 
M'sieu' — and  her  eyes  are  like  the  sea  when 
it  is  growing  dark,  a  blue  that  is  almost  black 
— and  M'sieu's  new  stockings;  la-la — they 
are  all  of  silk?  Whee,  and  the  young  lady's 
lips  are  very  red  and  she  has  a  great  many 
very  white  teeth.  Then  her  hair  is  like  the 
copper  we  boil  the  chestnuts  in  and  far 
longer  than  mine — and  nobody  knows  better 
than  M'sieu'  himself  the  thickness  of  my 
hair!"  Corentine  tossed  her  pretty  head. 
Deane  had  once  succeeded  in  posing  her  un- 

5 


The  Countess  Diane 

coiifed,  a  great  concession  for  a  Bretonne, 
and  the  girl  had  always  pretended  to  resent 
it.  " Gaste!"  she  continued,  "the  hair  of 
Mademoiselle  is  to  my  hair  like  a  shower  of 
gold  to  a  horse's  tail!" 

The  following  morning  Deane  passed  the 
new  house  on  his  way  down  the  beach.  At 
close  range  it  seemed  to  him  even  uglier,  if 
such  a  thing  were  possible ;  moreover,  it  pre 
sented  that  expression  of  sullen  aloofness 
peculiar  to  some  houses  just  as  it  is  to  the 
people  who  are  apt  to  live  in  them.  A  ship 
wrecked  mariner  dragging  himself  out  of 
the  brine  at  its  gates  would  never  have 
rapped  upon  them  to  ask  for  succor.  There 
was  also  to  the  place  an  air  of  covert  watch 
fulness;  with  shutters  half  closed  it  looked 
like  a  painted  woman  peering  under  lowered 
eyelids,  while  its  extreme  height  gave  the 
air  of  being  on  tiptoes  in  an  effort  to  survey 
the  surrounding  country  from  the  shelter  of 
its  hideous  wall. 

No  sign  of  life  came  from  any  part  of  it 
until  Deane  was  abreast  of  the  gate,  the 
grille  of  which  was  open,  permitting  a  vista 

of  hot  inclosure.    Then  through  the  silent, 

6 


The  Countess  Diane 

blazing  sunlight  came  the  deep-toned  notes 
of  a  striking  clock;  eleven  times  it  struck, 
slowly,  mournfully,  and  the  last  tone  was 
dissolved  in  a  silence  which  contrasted  gro 
tesquely  with  the  brightness  of  the  morning, 
the  vivid  colors  of  sea  and  sky  and  shore, 
and  the  clear  notes  of  the  snipe  and  curlew 
circling  the  marsh. 

A  week  or  two  passed,  and  Deane,  in  the 
interest  of  his  work,  grew  indifferent  to  his 
ugly  neighbor.  Sometimes,  when  he  went 
down  to  the  sea  for  his  morning  dip  not  too 
late,  he  wrould  catch  a  glimpse  of  figures  on 
the  beach  toward  Benodet,  but  his  absorp 
tion  in  a  water-color  which  he  was  doing  of 
Corentine  en  sardiniere  quite  obliterated  all 
thought  of  his  neighbors. 

One  day  he  received  a  note  from  a  fellow- 
painter  at  Beg-Meil  asking  him  to  go  over 
and  criticise  some  of  his  recent  work.  Deane, 
feeling  the  need  of  a  relaxation,  put  away 
his  painting  things  and  started  up  the  beach 
on  his  long  walk  to  the  place,  which  from 
being  originally  a  sort  of  artistic  Arcady 
had  developed  into  a  summer  resort.  On  his 
arrival,  hot  and  tired  and  thirsty,  Deane  was 

.71 


•TJie  Countess  Diane 

somewhat  disgusted  to  discover  that  his  col 
league  had  gone  to  Concarneau  for  the  day, 
taking  the  key  to  his  studio  with  him.  He 
dropped  into  a  chair  at  one  of  the  little  ta 
bles  on  the  terrace  garden,  and  had  just 
given  his  order  when  his  name  was  joyously 
shouted  from  somewhere  above  his  head,  and 
looking  up  he  discovered,  leaning  over  the 
railing  of  a  balcony  to  the  infinite  danger  of 
diving  on  to  the  table,  his  most  intimate 
friend  and  playmate,  Mr.  Samuel  Smalley, 
of  New  York  and  Paris. 

"  Hello,  Sam ! "  called  Mr<  Deane,  instinc 
tively  edging  from  under.  "  Come  down  by 
the  stairs — there's  lots  of  time." 

Mr.  Smalley  quickly  complied,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  was  sitting  opposite  his  friend. 

"What  are  you  doing  down  here,  Sam?" 
inquired  Mr.  Deane. 

"  Oh,  just  riding  around  on  the  car  and 
looking  for  trouble.  I  came  to  this  place 
especially  to  hunt  for  you." 

"I  do  not  care  for  the  implied  associa 
tion,"  observed  Deane.  "  What  do  you  plan, 
now  that  you  have  found  me  ? " 

"  A  whirl  along  the  Cote  d'Emeraud ;  Di- 
8 


The  Countess  Diane 

nan  and  Dinard  and  St.  Malo  and  the 
Mount.  Afterward  Trouville — if  there's 
anything  left." 

"Of  what?  Trouville  or  ourselves? 
Whom  have  you  with  you?" 

"  No  one  but  an  ass  of  a  chauffeur  I  im 
ported  from  England.  I  don't  dare  let  him 
drive,  because  in  a  tight  place  he  always 
turns  to  the  left.  All  of  my  friends  are 
either  dead,  married  or  working.  Pack  up 
a  bag  and  come  along.  There's  a  good 
chap." 

"Very  well,"  answered  Mr.  Deane,  who 
required  but  little  time  to  resolve  upon  a 
change  of  scene.  "  Come  over  and  stop  the 
night  with  me  and  we  will  talk  it  over  and 
map  out  our  route.  There  are  a  lot  of  peo 
ple  we  know  at  Dinan:  Jim  Cutting  and 
Schuyler  and  Randal,  and  all  that  crowd." 

"  We'll  look  'em  up,  God  bless  'em! "  said 
Mr.  Smalley. 

The  two  friends  went  out  to  the  garage, 
where  they  found  the  chauffeur  leaning 
upon  the  hood  of  the  motor,  smoking,  and 
talking  Cockney  French  to  one  of  the  maids. 
If  any  work  had  been  done  upon  the  car,  a 

9 


The  Countess  Diane 

big  50-horse-power  touring  car,  it  was  not 
apparent. 

"  Fill  the  tanks,  then  crank  up  and  get  in 
behind!"  commanded  Mr.  Smalley,  and  the 
chauffeur,  being  far  from  home  and  in  a 
foreign  land,  obeyed  without  remark.  Smal 
ley  stepped  into  the  office  to  settle  his  ac 
count. 

"You  know  the  road  and  you  know  the 
car,  Archie,"  he  said  as  he  came  out.  "  Get 
in  and  drive." 

Deane  obeyed  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure;  he 
took  considerable  pride  in  the  skill  with 
which  he  handled  his  friends'  cars,  and  there 
fore  he  was  especially  annoyed  at  what  im 
mediately  followed.  The  gate  of  the  yard 
opened  upon  the  road  at  right  angles,  a  high 
wall  hiding  anything  which  might  be  passing 
from  either  direction,  so  Deane  started  out 
on  his  low  speed,  horning  vigorously  as  he 
reached  the  gate.  But  before  the  blare  had 
ceased,  a  big  limousine  car,  running  silently 
as  a  watch,  swung  in  from  the  road  directly 
upon  them. 

The  driver  was  quick  as  he  was  reckless; 
like  a  flash  he  threw  on  his  emergency  brake 

10 


The  Countess  Diane 

and  at  the  same  time  swerved  sharply  in  an 
effort  to  cross  the  road  ahead  of  Deane  and 
go  into  the  wall,  which  would  have  given  him 
another  few  metres  in  which  to  stop.  Deane 
had,  of  course,  braked  and  would  have  es 
caped  all  injury  had  not  the  other  man,  ap 
parently  fearing  a  skid  which  would  smash 
him  against  the  other  car  broadside  on, 
swung  sharply  back  again.  He  was  almost 
at  a  stop,  however,  and  his  big  machine  slid 
gently  against  the  other  car;  there  was  a 
crash,  a  slight  jar,  and  at  the  same  moment 
Deane,  who  had  reversed  as  quickly  as  was 
possible,  backed  slowly  away  and  stopped. 
As  he  did  so  he  observed  that  the  crash  had 
come  from  the  lens  of  one  of  the  other  car's 
acetylene  lights,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
saw  that  a  large  triangular  chunk  had 
been  gouged  from  the  shoe  of  its  left  front 
tire. 

The  next  instant  the  two  young  men  were 
treated  to  an  interesting  exhibition  of  Slavic 
temper.  The  man  driving  was  a  bearded  in 
dividual  of  enormous  physique,  very  evi 
dently  a  Russian  noble,  while  beside  him  sat 
apparently  his  chauffeur,  a  small  man  of 

11 


The  Countess  Diane 

Slavic  features,  which  were  for  the  moment 
blanched  with  terror.  The  big  man  swung 
quickly  down  from  behind  the  steering- 
wheel  and  stepped  in  front  of  his  damaged 
car.  No  word  escaped  his  lips,  but  the  two 
men  could  see  the  gleam  of  his  teeth  through 
his  bristling  beard,  while  his  small,  blue  eyes 
were  dancing  and  twinkling  like  those  of  a 
bear  rearing  itself  to  strike,  and  there  was 
an  odd,  gurgling  noise  coming  from  deep  in 
his  throat. 

He  glanced  at  the  broken  lamp,  jerked  a 
hanging  fragment  from  the  tear  in  the  tire, 
which  was  still  inflated,  then,  still  in  the  same 
ominous  and  potential  silence,  he  turned  and 
stared  at  his  trembling  chauffeur,  who  had 
jumped  down  and  was  standing  beside  the 
motor. 

"Well — idiot!"  snarled  the  big  man  in 
French.  "  Why  did  you  not  horn? " 

The  man  shrank  back.  "  I  did  not  know 
,that  Monsieur  was  going  to  turn  in,"  he 
'stammered. 

The  words  had  no  sooner  left  the  man's 
lips  than  his  master's  great  fist  flew  out, 
striking  him  heavily  in  the  face.  Backward 

12 


The  Countess  Diane 

went  the  chauffeur  across  the  motor-hood; 
then  as  he  struggled  to  regain  his  feet  his 
master  struck  him  again  a  swinging  blow, 
and  would  no  doubt  have  repeated  it  if  Mr. 
Smalley  had  not  slipped  down  from  his  seat 
and  seized  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"That's  enough!"  he  cried  in  French. 
"  Do  you  want  to  kill  the  man? " 

The  Russian  turned  upon  him  with  the 
growl  of  a  trapped  grizzly.  With  one  sweep 
of  his  great  arm  he  swept  the  young  man 
aside  and  then,  stepping  forward,  struck  at 
him  savagely.  It  was  an  unscientific  blow, 
such  as  might  be  dealt  by  a  gorilla:  a  blow 
dealt  downward  and  inward  with  the  inside 
of  the  fist.  Smalley  saw  it  coming  and 
sprang  back;  then  before  the  Russian  could 
recover  his  poise  he  stepped  quickly  forward 
and  with  all  of  the  force  and  accuracy  of  a 
trained  boxer  he  placed  so  solid  an  uppercut 
on  the  base  of  the  heavy  jaw  that,  massive 
as  was  the  anatomy  of  the  Russian,  the  shock 
staggered  him.  He  reeled,  tottered,  then  sat 
with  a  thud  on  the  road. 

"My  h'eyel"  cried  Smalley 's  cockney 
from  the  tonneau.  "  That  were  a  sleepin' 

13 


The  Countess  Diane 

powder  for  'is  w'iskers!  'Ook  'im  in  the 
h'eye  when  'e  gets  'is  legs,  sir ! " 

Mr.  Smalley  looked  toward  his  friend  and 
grinned.  The  big  Russian  was  still  resting 
in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  wait  for  his 
card- 

'  You  get  back  in  the  car  as  quick  as  you 
can!"  answered  Deane.  "Do  you  want  to 
get  mixed  up  in  a  proces-verbal  and  spend 
the  next  six  weeks  in  this  hole?  Hurry,  be 
fore  he  finds  out  what  hit  him!" 

Somewhat  reluctantly  Mr.  Smalley 
stepped  aboard  his  car,  Deane  threw  in  the 
clutch,  and  a  moment  later  they  were  hum 
ming  down  the  road. 

'You  may  be  a  millionaire,  Sam,"  ob 
served  his  friend,  "but  you  are  not  rich 
enough  to  afford  slugging  people  here  in 
France.  I  once  boxed  the  ears  of  a  hotel- 
keeper  ;  it  did  him  no  harm  and  me  no  good, 
but  it  cost  fifteen  hundred  francs." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Mr.  Smalley,  "  I  should 
have  kicked  him.  That  is  much  less  expen 
sive." 

The  big  car  quickly  devoured  the  distance 
14 


The  Countess  Diane 

to  Deane's  farm.  As  it  was  still  early  in  the 
afternoon  the  host  suggested  to  his  friend 
that  they  go  for  a  swim.  There  was  a  little 
cove  some  distance  down  the  beach  where 
Deane  sometimes  went  to  sketch,  and  there 
he  proposed  that  they  should  bathe.  To  get 
there  it  was  necessary  to  pass  the  new  villa, 
and  as  they  drew  abreast  of  the  ugly  edifice 
Mr.  Smalley  paused  and  contemplated  it 
long  and  curiously. 

;'  That  is,  without  exception,  the  very 
worst  that  I  have  ever  seen! "  said  he.  " Do 
the  inhabitants  look  like  it?" 

"  Corentine  tells  me  that  there  is  a  beauti 
ful  young  lady,  with  eyes  like  the  sea  when 
it  grows  dark,  hair  like  a  shower  of  gold,  and 
a  great  many  very  white  teeth,"  answrered 
Deane;  "but,  as  Corentine  also  greatly  ad 
mires  the  house,  I  have  not  allowed  myself 
to  become  excited." 

They  resumed  their  walk  along  the  beach. 
Presently  Mr.  Smalley  raised  his  eyes  from 
a  scrutiny  of  the  sand. 

"Does  the  beautiful  young  lady  ever 
paddle  about  barefooted? "  he  asked  with 
interest. 

15 


The  Countess  Diane 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Deane.  He 
glanced  down  and  saw  some  imprints  on  the 
sand.  "Do  you  think  that  you  have  struck 
her  trail?" 

"  That  is  in  my  mind,"  admitted  Smalley. 
"There  has  been  a  barefooted  young  lady 
along  this  beach  not  more  than  fifteen  min 
utes  ago.  The  tide  is  falling  and  you  can 
see  that  these  tracks  are  not  far  from  the 
water's  edge." 

Deane  paused  and  examined  the  foot 
prints  carefully. 

"  Those  were  made  by  a  child,"  he  ob 
served. 

"  You  are  a  poor  tracker,"  said  Smalley. 
"These  are  not  the  footprints  of  a  child; 
they  are  the  footprints  of  a  young  and  beau 
tiful  woman  with  long,  bare  legs ! " 

Deane  regarded  his  friend  with  skeptic 
irony.  "  Why  long  and  bare? "  he  asked. 

'You  are  more  at  home  on  the  Champs 
filysees  than  you  would  be  on  the  trail, 
Archie,"  observed  Mr.  Smalley  with  conde 
scension.  "  Now,  I  am  a  hunter — a  tracker. 
If  you  look  here  where  the  sand  is  firm  you 
will  see  that  between  the  heel  and  the  ball  of 

16 


The  Countess  Diane 

the  foot  it  has  not  been  touched.  A  child's 
foot  would  have  made  a  flatter  and  wider 
print.  Now  in  regard  to  the  legs;  my  own 
are  fairly  long  and  unhampered  by  skirts, 
yet  walking  naturally  these  prints  are  spaced 
as  far  apart  as  mine  are." 

Mr.  Deane  regarded  his  friend  with  grow 
ing  admiration. 

"What  was  she  thinking  about  when  she 
passed  here,  Sam?  "  he  inquired  respectfully. 

"  She  was  thinking  of  you." 

"Of  me!    How  nice  of  her ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Smalley  excitedly,  "  and 
I  can  prove  it!  Every  few  metres  she  has 
looked  back  over  her  shoulder — her  right 
shoulder.  See  where  she  has  toed  in  with 
her  left  foot?  She  was  probably  afraid  that 
you  might  see  her  and  follow  her." 

"Get  out!"  said  Deane  resentfully;  nev 
ertheless  he  studied  the  small,  dainty  prints 
with  a  curious  excitement. 

"  She's  run  away — that's  what  she's 
done!  "  he  announced.  "  Corentine  said  that 
she  never  went  out  unattended.  I'll  bet  the 
poor  girl  has  played  hookey  and  gone  off 
for  a  little  lark  all  by  herself!'* 

17 


The  Countess  Diane 

Suddenly  the  footprints  vanished,  the  girl 
having  apparently  waded  in  the  shallow 
water. 

Deane  felt  sorry  in  a  vague  sort  of 
way.  There  had  been  for  him  something 
pleasing  and  pathetic  in  the  mute  compan 
ionship  of  the  dainty  little  prints  which 
looked  so  very  much  alone  upon  that  wild 
and  desolate  strip  of  beach. 

When  presently  the  prints  emerged  again, 
dropping  apparently  from  the  sky,  he  was 
quite  delighted. 

"Maybe  they  were  left  by  an  angel,"  he 
observed. 

"  Perhaps,"  assented  Smalley.  "  Some 
times  they  are.  Whatever  she  is,  I'll  bet 
that  we  find  her  behind  those  rocks  just 
ahead." 

"  That  is  where  I  had  planned  to  bathe," 
said  Deane ;  "  but  if  she  is  there  we  will  make 
a  detour  so  as  not  to  disturb  her.  Think 
what  it  must  be,  Sam,  for  a  girl  to  be  penned 
up  in  a  coop  like  that  thing  we  passed.  If 
she's  given  her  keepers  the  slip  we  don't 
want  to  spoil  her  little  fun." 

"All  right,"  replied  Smalley.  "We  will 
IS 


The  Countess  Diane 

go  up  quietly,  and,  if  she  is  there,  clear  out 
without  letting  her  see  us." 

They  quietly  approached  the  ledge  of  rock 
which  shut  off  all  view  of  the  beach  ahead. 
Deane  was  leading  the  way  through  a  fissure 
in  the  cliff,  when  suddenly  he  stopped  and 
raised  a  warning  hand. 

Less  than  ten  paces  from  them  was  a 
young  girl  intently  absorbed  in  digging  in 
the  sand  for  echille.  She  was  apparently  a 
very  young  girl,  not  over  eighteen  years, 
but  tall  and  with  the  strong,  graceful  figure 
of  one  of  Diana's  wood-nymphs.  She  wore 
a  quaint,  old-fashioned  Empire  gown,  short- 
sleeved,  and  with  the  skirt  pinned  up  above 
her  round,  dimpled  knees.  From  where  they 
stood  the  two  men  saw  her  in  profile ;  a  face 
flushed  and  eager  beneath  a  great,  tumbled 
mass  of  golden-copper  hair  which  was 
caught  up  in  a  loose  knot  and  held  by  a  black 
velvet  ribbon.  Beneath  were  a  retrousse 
nose,  a  very  flushed  cheek,  red  lips  tightly 
compressed  from  her  exertions,  and  a  small, 
firm  chin.  Even  as  they  looked  she  threw 
one  of  the  slippery  little  fish  up  on  the  tip 
of  her  pointed  spade,  and  then  there  was  a 

19 


The  Countess  Diane 

frantic  scramble  which  ended  in  her  catching 
it  before  it  could  dart  away  beneath  the  sur 
face  of  the  wet  sand.  With  flashing  smile 
of  triumph  she  dropped  it  into  her  tiny 
bucket,  and  Deane  thought  of  Corentine's 
description  of  the  "  great  many  very  white 
teeth." 

He  reached  behind  him,  prodded  his 
friend,  and  the  two  backed  noiselessly  out 
the  way  they  had  entered. 

"  Corentine  was  right,"  said  Smalley,  as 
they  headed  for  the  sand-dunes  to  make  a 
detour  of  the  cove.  "  Prettiest  girl  that  ever 
/  saw." 

'  You  can  never  think  of  anything  but  a 
girl's  looks,  Sam,"  said  Deane  reprovingly. 
"  What  impressed  me  was  the  pathos  of  the 
picture — that  lovely  girl  having  such  a  glo 
rious  time  all  alone  there  on  this  desolate 
beach!  Think  of  a  splendid  young  creature 
like  that  being  penned  up  in  that  vile  mus 
tard-box  back  there!  Did  you  see  her  smile 
when  she  caught  that  wretched  little  fish? 
Did  you  ever  see  such  color  in  a  woman's 
hair? — and  such  a  ravishing  profile?  And 
speaking  from  a  purely  professional  point 

20 


The  Countess  Diane 
of  view,   if   I   could   get   her   on   a   can- 


vas- 


"And  yet,"  interrupted  Mr.  Smalley, 
"  what  appealed  to  you,  Archie,  was  the  pa 
thos  of  the  girl,  not  her  beauty." 

"  Well,  isn't  it  pathetic  to  think  of  such  a 
lovely  girl  having  such  a  ripping  good  time 
doing  what  would  bore  most  women  to 
death?  Allalone- 

'  You  keep  dwelling  so  much  on  her  lone 
liness,"  interrupted  Mr.  Smalley,  "that  I 
should  think  that  you  would  go  and  join 
her." 

"  I  would  not  run  the  risk  of  spoiling  one 
happy  hour  of  hers  for  any  selfish  reason, 
Sam,"  said  Deane  moodily;  "but" — he 
brightened— "  I  suppose  that  it  would 
be  only  civil  for  me  to  go  and  call  some 
time." 

"We  might  go  to-night,"  suggested 
Smalley.  "  She  might  not  be  here  when  you 
get  back  from  your  tour  with  me." 

Deane  looked  extremely  uncomfortable. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  was  a  bit  hasty  in 
agreeing  to  take  this  trip  with  you,  Sam," 
said  he.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  really  no 

21 


The  Countess  Diane 

right  to  go.  I  really  ought  to  make  a  stab 
at  the  Salon  this  year  if  I  am  ever  going  to." 

"  All  right,"  said  Smalley,  so  readily  that 
Deane  looked  at  him  with  suspicion.  "  Stay 
here,  if  you  would  rather — and  I  say,  if  you 
don't  mind,  I  believe  I'd  like  to  stop  with 
you  for  a  bit.  There  is  a  great  deal  about 
this  place  which  appeals  to  me." 

He  looked  thoughtfully  toward  the  cove 
which  they  had  just  left. 

"  You  are  always  to  consider  my  house  as 
your  home,  Sam,"  answered  Deane;  "but  I 
am  afraid  that  you  would  find  it  very  dull. 
I  am  quite  a  different  person  when  I  get 
down  seriously  to  work ;  scarcely  have  a  word 
to  say." 

Mr.  Smalley  grinned,  but  did  not  reply, 
and  the  two  friends,  making  a  detour  be 
yond  the  head  of  the  cove,  struck  the  beach 
below,  and  were  soon  romping  like  two  por 
poises  far  out  in  the  blue,  sparkling  water. 

As  they  were  dressing  there  came  to  them, 
borne  faintly  on  the  breeze,  the  noise  of  a 
rapidly-running  motor. 

"  That's  funny,"  said  Deane.  "  Could  we 
hear  your  car  at  this  distance?" 

22 


The  Countess  Diane 

"We  might,  but "•  —  Smalley  pricked  up 
his  ears  and  listened — "  that  does  not  sound 
to  me  like  my  car.  Is  there  a  road  near  us? " 

"  There  is  a  broad  lane  which  comes  down 
to  the  beach  from  the  Benodet  Road,  but 
the  only  ones  to  use  it  are  the  people  in  that 
new  house.  No  one  would  drive  a  car  there, 
especially  as  one  must  wade  through  two 
feet  of  water  to  cross  the  lagoon  back  of  the 
beach.  It  doesn't  matter  with  a  horse  and 
cart,  but  the  salt  water  would  not  do  any 
good  to  machinery." 

"Listen!"  cried  Smalley,  raising  one 
hand.  "Did  you  hear  that?" 

"  The  engine  is  slowing— 

"  No,  starting — that  is,  he  just  threw  in 
his  clutch;  but  that  is  not  what  I  meant. 
I  thought  that  I  heard  a  cry — a  scream." 

"  I  heard  that.    It  was  a  gull." 

Mr.  Smalley  shook  his  head.  "  It  did  not 
sound  to  me  like  a  gull — but  it  was  so  far 
away Come  on;  are  you  ready?" 

They  started  back  along  the  edge  of  the 
beach.  The  tide  was  far  out,  the  sun  was 
getting  low,  and  its  vivid,  slanting  rays 
struck  the  glistening  expanse  of  wet  sand 

23 


The  Countess  Diane 

and  painted  it  in  varying  opalescent  hues. 
Beyond  was  the  white  zone  of  breaking 
wavelets,  for  the  sea  was  still,  then  a  broad 
band  of  deepest  blue,  dotted  in  the  distance 
by  the  many-colored  sails  of  the  returning 
fishing  fleet,  beating  up  to  Concarneau 
against  the  faint  land-breeze. 

"I  suppose  that  our  little  friend  has 
gone,"  observed  Smalley.  "  It  must  be  get 
ting  late "  He  stopped  suddenly  in  his 

tracks. 

" I  heard  it  that  time! "  said  Deane,  look 
ing  uneasily  at  his  friend;  "and  it  was  a 
scream!  There  goes  that  blooming  motor 
again!  What  do  you  suppose  the  fellow 
is  trying  to  do?" 

They  listened  for  a  moment  while  the 
sounds  of  the  rapidly  running  car  became 
fainter  and  fainter,  died  quite  away,  re 
turned  again,  then  were  swallowed  up  in  the 
distance. 

"  He's  driving  fast "  began  Mr.  Smal 
ley,  when  Deane  interrupted  him. 

"There's  something  about  it  I  don't 

like "  he  began  nervously.  Smalley 

looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

24 


The  Countess  Diane 

"About  what — what  do  you  mean?" 

"  Oh — I  don't  know.  The  whole  thing. 
That  girl  out  on  this  wild  beach  all  alone, 
then  that  motor  buzzing  around  where  no 
motor  has  ever  been  before — and  the 
scream—  He  started  to  trot  up  the 

beach.  Smalley,  with  a  glance  of  startled 
comprehension,  fell  in  beside  him. 

They  passed  between  the  sea  and  the  cove, 
now  empty,  where  they  had  seen  the  girl, 
and  then  upon  the  other  side  they  picked  up 
her  returning  trail.  All  at  once  Smalley, 
who  was  looking  ahead,  gripped  Deane  by 
the  arm. 

"What's  that?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  an 
object  lying  on  the  sand. 

"Her  spade!"  cried  Deane,  and  a  thrill 
of  alarm  rippled  through  him.  "  She  must 
have  thrown  it  aside!"  He  looked  inquir 
ingly  at  his  friend. 

"  She  began  to  run  here,"  said  Smalley. 
He  stopped  and  examined  the  prints  care 
fully.  'You  see,  here  she  stopped  to  look 
over  there"-— he  pointed  toward  the  sand- 
dunes  flanking  the  beach—  "  then  she  turned 
and  dug  out  as  hard  as  she  could  go."  He 

25 


The  Countess  Diane 

trotted  ahead  on  the  girl's  widely-spaced 
prints.  "Here  it  occurred  to  her  to  throw 
away  her  ecMlle  spade — keep  right  on  with 
this  trail,  Archie;  I  want  to  look  higher  up 
on  the  beach ! " 

With  an  ugly  sense  of  apprehension 
Deane  continued  on  the  girl's  trail.  A  shout 
from  Smalley  warned  him  that  something 
had  been  discovered,  and  glancing  in  his  di 
rection  Deane  saw  with  a  growing  alarm 
that  his  friend  was  running  another  trail 
which  converged  to  meet  that  made  by  the 
girl.  Closer  together  they  came,  then  sud 
denly,  when  less  than  a  half-dozen  paces 
apart,  the  girl's  tracks  turned  sharply  and 
made  for  the  water.  There  were  a  few 
washed  imprints  at  what  had  been  the  water's 
edge,  then  they  ceased  entirely,  nor  were 
there  any  more  in  sight.  Just  above  them 
the  other  tracks  disappeared  in  the  same 
manner. 

Deane  stared  at  his  friend  with  a  white 
face.  The  whole  story  of  the  pursuit  was  up 
to  this  point  so  obvious;  then,  at  the  crucial 
moment,  when  the  pursuer  was  closing  in 
upon  his  desperate  quarry,  the  calm,  in 
scrutable  sea  had  silently  effaced  all  records. 

26 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Look  here,  Archie! "  called  Mr.  Smalley. 
"  What  do  you  make  of  this? " 

Deane  hurried  to  the  spot  and  studied  the 
big,  square-toed  footprints  which  were  cut 
sharply  and  clearly  in  the  firm  sand. 

"  It  was  a  big  man—  -"  he  began  slowly, 
but  Smalley  interrupted: 

"A  very  big  man!  Compare  his  tracks 
with  mine.  The  foot  is  half  again  as  big  and 
it  has  sunk  twice  as  deeply,  and  the  sand 
was  firmer  then  than  it  is  now  that  it  has 
dried  out  a  bit  more!" 

"And  to  think,"  groaned  Deane,  "that 
we  were  almost  within  hail!  We  were 
within  hail,  but  were  probably  splashing 
around  in  the  water  when  this  was  going  on! 
Come  on— let's  see  where  they  came  out!" 
They  started  up  the  beach  on  a  run.  "  I 
think,"  panted  Smalley,  "  that  the  girl  was 
running  in  the  shallow  water,  because  the 
footing  was  a  little  firmer — see  these  grooves 
—yes " 

'There    they    are,    just    ahead!"    said 
Deane. 

Apparently  from  nowhere  came  the  broad, 
deep  footprints  of  the  pursuer,  sharply  de 
fined,  deep,  and  spaced  as  in  walking  slowly. 

27 


The  Countess  Diane 

But  the  barefooted  prints  of  the  girl  were 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Deane  stared  at  his  friend  with  a  white 
face  and  eyes  big  with  horror.  Here  came 
the  trail  of  the  pursuer  straight  from  the 
sea  and  up  across  the  beach  in  the  direction 
of  the  sand-dunes. 

The  unswerving  track  had  an  expression 
of  cold  finality,  of  the  chase  being  finished 
beyond  the  need  of  further  eif ort,  the  quarry 
either  escaped  or  destroyed  and  the  hunter 
betaking  himself  away.  Deane  glanced  out 
to  sea  and  shivered.  The  water  was  getting 
darker;  the  bright  yellows  and  reds  and 
browns  of  the  sails  of  the  sardiniers  glowed 
out  against  a  lee  set  of  gray  cloud-bank. 
The  late  summer  sun  was  nearing  the  edge 
of  a  far-distant  point. 

"  Could  he  have  drowned  her — or  perhaps 
she  drowned  herself — swam  far  out  rather 

than  be  taken "  Deane  began  huskily. 

He  turned  and  started  to  run  up  the 
beach. 

"Come  back,  my  son!"  called  Mr.  Smal- 
ley.  "You  will  not  find  her  trail  up 
there!" 

28 


The  Countess  Diane 

'Why  not?"  asked  Deane,  pausing. 

"Because — he's  carrying  her!11 

"What?33 

"  Sure  of  it!  See  the  way  he  has  gouged 
up  the  sand?  Come  on — we  can  soon  tell. 
She  was  a  big  girl — wasn't  she? " 

"  A  very  big  girl,"  said  Deane. 

They  turned  and  hurried  off  on  the  new 
scent.  Straight  up  it  went,  over  the  sand- 
dunes,  plowing  through  the  tough  grass  up 
the  steep  incline  with  its  heavy,  shifting 
foothold. 

"Oh,  come!"  cried  Deane  despairingly. 
"  No  man  living  could  carry  that  girl  over 
a  place  like  this  without  setting  her  down 
to  rest." 

Smalley  looked  doubtful,  then  shook  his 
head. 

'  This  was  a  very  powerful  man,"  he  said. 
"In  fact"— a  peculiar  note  crept  into  his 
voice—  "  I  have  seen  but  one  man  in  France 
who  impressed  me  as  being  capable  of  such 
a  feat  of  strength!"  He  threw  a  sidelong 
glance  at  his  friend.  Deane's  gray  eyes 
opened  very  wide. 

"That  Russian!" 

29 


The  Countess  Diane 

"Yes.    Come  on;  we  can  soon  tell." 

"And  the  automobile  we  heard!"  cried 
Deane.  "  He  is  heading  for  the  place  where 
that  lane  comes  out!" 

They  dashed  ahead,  following  the  trail  as 
it  crossed  a  sandy,  thistle-covered  stretch 
heading  for  the  lagoon,  which  was  now  bare, 
the  tide  being  low.  Here  the  tracks  dis 
appeared  again,  the  man  having  waded.  On 
the  far  side  they  reappeared,  and  there  also, 
as  they  had  expected,  they  found  the  hard 
sand  gouged  by  the  wheels  of  an  automobile. 
The  car  had  backed  and  turned,  the  driver 
taking  care  not  to  run  it  into  the  salt  water, 
and  the  space  for  this  manoeuvre  had  been 
limited,  as  was  shown  by  the  zigzags  where 
he  had  started  and  reversed. 

'You  are  right,  Sam,"  observed  Deane, 
as  he  studied  the  markings.  "  It  is  the  Rus 
sian."  He  pointed  to  a  raised,  triangular 
elevation  in  the  track  of  one  of  the  wheels. 
"He  took  that  chunk  out  on  our  front 
spring  or  crank  or  something.  Now  if  we 
could  only  be  sure  about  the  girl ! "  His  eyes 
examined  minutely  all  of  the  details  of  the 

30 


The  Countess  Diane 

place,  and  as  they  did  so  fell  upon  a  small, 
black  object  hanging  from  a  thistle.  With 
a  quick  thrill  he  stooped  to  examine  it,  and 
his  heart  gave  a  mighty  thump  as  he  dis 
covered  it  to  be  the  black  velvet  hair-ribbon 
worn  by  the  girl. 

"A  straight  case  of  abduction! "  observed 
Mr.  Smalley,  as  he  turned  the  ribbon  in  his 
hand.  "Now  what?" 

"We  must  let  her  people  know,"  said 
Deane.  "  There  is  evidently  something  be 
hind  it  all — some  reason  or  motive  beyond 
mere  kidnaping.  No  doubt  she  was  kept 
here  in  hiding  from  this  animal." 

"Perhaps  he  is  her  husband,"  suggested 
Mr.  Smalley  with  malice. 

"Don't  be  an  ass,  Sam,"  retorted  Deane 
sharply.  "Any  one  could  see  at  a  glance 
at  her  face  that  the  girl  is  a  perfect  innocent. 
What  do  you  want  to  suggest  horrors  like 
that  for,  anyway?" 

"  As  a  possible  motive.  Perhaps  he  only 
wants  to  marry  her  to  somebody  else." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  have  to  harp 
so  on  the  marriage  idea,"  said  Deane  irri- 

31 


The  Countess  Diane 

tably.  "It's  much  more  apt  to  be  a  ques 
tion  of  money.  Let's  go  to  the  house  and 
see  what  they  have  to  say  about  it  there." 

They  recrossed  the  lagoon  and  hurried  up 
the  beach  to  the  new  house  which  reared  it 
self  in  garish  loneliness,  its  villainously-col 
ored  tiles  ablaze  in  the  late  sunlight  and  de 
fying  coarsely  the  soft  tints  of  sea  and  sky 
and  the  sweetly  subdued  richness  in  the  tone 
of  the  heaving  sand-hills.  There  it  stood, 
unfaithful  to  its  trust,  like  some  painted 
courtezan  flaunting  her  colors  in  defiant 
desolation,  vulgar  yet  pathetic,  prideful, 
abandoned,  alone. 

Deane  gave  the  bell-cord  a  tug  which  set 
the  whole  place  clattering  and  jangling 
hideously,  but  only  the  discordant  echoes 
came  from  the  silent  house. 

"Try  again,"  said  Mr.  Smalley;  "then 
chuck  a  rock  through  the  window.  I'm  sure 
that  would  be  less  offensive  than  that  bell." 

Deane  gave  another  tug,  and  again  the 
vile  bell  clamored,  but  with  no  response. 

"  Let's  kick  in  the  gate,"  suggested  Smal 
ley.  Deane  promptly  acted  on  this  advice, 
and  the  heavy  gate  being  unbarred  and  held 

32 


The  Countess  Diane 

only  by  a  feeble  latch,  they  were  quickly 
inside  the  court. 

"Either  no  one  is  at  home,"  observed 
Smalley,  "or  else  they  think  that  we  have 
come  to  cut  their  throats,  and  are,  perhaps, 
at  this  minute  drawing  a  bead  on  us  from 
the  cracks  in  those  iron  shutters." 

"Oh,  puff!"  said  Deane.  "It  is  just  as 
I  thought.  There  is  nobody  at  home.  They 
have  all  gone  off  and  left  the  girl  alone,  so 
she  took  it  into  her  head  to  have  a  little 
outing  of  her  own.  You  can't  tell ;  very  pos 
sibly  they  were  bribed  by  this  beast  to  clear 
out!" 

"That  also  is  possible,"  assented  Mr. 
Smalley.  "The  matter  as  it  now  stands  is 
resolved  into  a  single  query:  What  are  we 
going  to  do  about  it?" 

A  look  of  determination  had  appeared 
upon  the  thoroughbred  features  of  Mr. 
Deane.  The  habitual  expression  of  lazy 
indifference  had  been  displaced  by  one  of 
dominant  alertness,  quite  new  to  his  friend. 
Also  the  drawling,  mocking  tones  of  his 
voice  had  vanished,  giving  way  to  a  note  of 
new  and  unsuspected  masterfulness, 

33 


The  Countess  Diane 

11  That  is  a  foolish  and  unnecessary  ques 
tion,  Sam,"  he  answered  sternly.  "There 
can  possibly  be  but  one  thing  for  us  to  do, 
and  that  is  to  rescue  her!" 

"Really?" 

;'  Yes.  Whoever  this  Russian  may  be,  and 
no  matter  what  his  relations  are  to  the  girl, 
the  fact  remains  that  he  has  dragged  her  off 
by  force  and  against  her  will.  It  is  up  to  us 
to  rescue  her  first  and  ask  questions  after 
ward.  Come  on " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Smalley.  "  I 
hear  a  noise!" 

The  sound  of  scratching  became  audible 
at  a  window  behind  them  and  was  followed 
by  a  plaintive  "  mee-aow ! " 

"Let  the  poor  beast  out,"  said  Smalley. 
Deane  tried  the  shutter,  which  was  unlocked, 
and  throwing  it  open  discovered  a  large  tor 
toise-shell  cat  sitting  upon  the  window-sill. 
Much  to  his  surprise  the  window  itself  was 
also  unfastened.  He  threw  it  open,  when 
the  cat  leaped  out  and  began  to  rub  against 
his  legs.  But  something  just  within  the 
room  had  caught  the  young  man's  eye.  Upon 
a  decorative  easel  stood  an  exquisitely 

34 


The  Countess  Diane 

painted  head  of  the  girl  herself.  It  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  study,  but  masterly  in 
style  and  a  likeness,  as  she  might  have  looked 
at  sixteen.  In  one  corner  of  the  canvas 
was  inscribed  in  thin  lettering: 

La  Comtesse  Diane  Roubanoff. 
Compliment  de  Leon  Marceau. 

'  The  Countess  Diane  Roubanoff,"  cried 
Deane  in  amazement.  "  Why,  Sam,  wasn't 
it  a  Count  Roubanoff  whom  that  Baltimore 
beauty,  Daisy  Fairfax,  married  about 
twenty  years  ago?" 

'  Yes ;  she  was  a  relation  of  mine.  You 
know  he  was  killed  in  the  late  unpleasant 
ness  with  Japan.  Used  to  be  in  the  diplo 
matic  service." 

Deane  grabbed  his  friend  by  the  arm  and 
pushed  him  in  front  of  the  window. 

"Look  at  that,"  he  said  excitedly.  "That 
girl  is  a  relative  of  yours,  Sam!  a  relative, 
by  gad,  and  here  she  has  been  kidnaped 
under  your  very  nose,  poor  thing ! " 

Mr.  Smalley  stared  and  his  lean  jaw 
dropped.  Suddenly  he  banged  the  shutter 
and  started  for  the  gate. 

35 


The  Countess  Diane 
"  Come  on,  Archie,"  he  called  back  over 
his  shoulder.     "We  have  fooled  away  too 
much  time  already."    He  started  off  on  a 
trot,  Deane  falling  in  at  his  side. 

"That's     Daisy     Fairfax's     daughter- 
no    doubt    of   that!"    said    Mr.    Smalley, 
as    he    toiled    along    through    the    sand. 
l'Her    mother   died   ten    years    ago— they 
say  he  ill-used  her;  those  beggars  usually 

do!" 

"Good    thing    you    filled    your    tank!' 
puffed  Deane.  "  Do  you  think  that  we  ought 
to  inform  the  police?" 

"Not  yet;  the  dog  may  have  some  legal 
claim  on  her — guardian  or  something.  Our 
play  is  to  steal  her  back  again  if  we  can 
and  then  see  how  we  stand  afterward.  He 
will  not  have  more  than  an  hour's  start  and 
we  can  go  two  kilometres  to  his  one.  Be 
sides,  he  is  shy  a  lamp,  and  it's  a  dark  night 
— or  will  be." 

"  True,  mon  gars,  and  that  wagon  lit  he  is 
driving  will  not  do  much  over  these  hills. 
If  he  is  going  east  he  will  strike  out  for 
Rennes,  and  in  any  case  he  is  almost  sure 
to  pass  through  Rosporden.  When  we  learn 


The  Countess  Diane 

which  way  he  has  turned  from  there  we 
can  be  pretty  sure  whether  he  is  lining  out 
for  Paris  or  going  north  or  south.  That 
one  searchlight  of  his  will  make  it  easy  to 
follow  him ;  they  are  sure  to  notice  it  at  the 
octroi  stations." 

"  We  can  follow  his  track  with  my  head 
lights,"  puffed  Mr.  Smalley,  upon  whom 
the  pace  set  by  his  enthusiastic  friend  was 
beginning  to  tell,  "and  if  we  see  any  indi 
cation  of  his  turning  off  from  the  post-road 
we  can  look  for  that  tear  mark."  He  slack 
ened  his  pace.  "Hold  up,  Archie;  suppose 
we  come  down  to  our  first  through  this  sand. 
Let's  wait  and  do  our  hurrying  after  we  get 
in  the  car." 

"  The  Countess  Diane,"  murmured  Deane 
reflectively.  "  Lovely  name,  Diane.  Fits 
her,  too,  don't  you  think?" 

'Yes.  What  are  your  plans  after  we 
rescue  her?" 

"Why — eh — no  doubt  they  will  be  gov 
erned  largely  by  circumstances— 

"  They  usually  are.  I  suppose  that  in  the 
end  I  will  probably  have  to  marry  her  just 
for  the  look  of  the  thing."  Mr.  Smalley 

37 


The  Countess  Diane 

turned  away  his  large,  bony  features  to  hide 
a  grin. 

"  Oh,  puff ! "  growled  Deane.  "  Can't  you 
think  of  anything  but  getting  the  poor  girl 
married?  Think  of  that  lovely,  innocent 
child  being  locked  up  in  a  limousine  with 
that  hairy  brute  of  a  Slav!  And  she  was 

having  such  a  good  time "  Deane's 

usually  placid  voice  grew  suddenly  fierce. 
"I  swear,  I  hope  to  get  out  of  this  thing 
without  a  fight,  Sam,  but  if  the  worst  comes 
to  the  worst  I'll  not  stop  at  beating  in  that 
brute's  head  with  a  crowbar!" 

"Oh,  very  well — only  be  sure  that  there 
is  a  crowbar  before  you  start,"  said  Mr. 
Smalley.  "  I  almost  smashed  my  fist  with 
out  doing  any  damage  to  speak  of,  and  I 
put  it  right  in  the  best  place,  too.  It  would 
have  been  a  '  down  and  outer '  for  most  men, 
but  this  beggar  gets  up  and  runs  across 
about  a  kilometre  and  a  half  of  loose  sand 
with  a  big,  heavy  girl  in  his  arms.  You  can 
toy  with  him  next  time,  Archie." 

On  arriving  at  the  farm  the  two  men 
learned  that  the  chauffeur  had  kindly  of 
fered  to  assist  Glodina,  a  rosy-cheeked  sis- 

38 


The  Countess  Diane 

ter  of  Corentine,  in  driving  home  the  sheep, 
which  were  pastured  at  a  considerable  dis 
tance. 

"The  little  beast!"  growled  Smalley. 
"We're  lucky,  though,  that  he  didn't  take 
her  in  the  car.  He'd  have  done  so  if  there'd 
been  any  road!" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Deane.  :<  There  will 
be  one  less  to  pay  hush-money  to,  and  we 
don't  need  him  anyway.  Let's  slip  on  some 
clothes  and  get  away.  I'll  have  one  of  the 
girls  put  us  up  some  sandwiches  to  nibble 
on  the  road." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  big  car  with 
Deane  driving,  for  his  friend  was  a  trifle 
incommoded  by  a  sore  right  hand,  rolled 
heavily  out  of  the  winding  lane  and,  strik 
ing  the  smooth  highway,  turned  its  nose 
eastward  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  abducted 
Countess  Diane. 


II 


T  was  growing  dark  when  the  big 

T      touring  car  swung  out  upon  the 

Benodet  Road,  so  Deane  stopped 

and  Smalley  got  down  and  lit  the 

lamps. 

"  There  have  been  several  cars  past  here," 
he  observed,  glancing  at  the  road. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  pick  up  his 
trail  till  we  get  to  Rosporden,"  said  Deane. 
"  He  is  almost  sure  to  go  that  way.  What 
I  think  is  that  he  will  put  up  for  the  night 
at  some  obscure  little  place  along  the  road. 
He  will  hardly  attempt  to  drive  that  box 
straight  through  to  Paris.  Jump  in  and  we 
will  unhook  a  little  speed." 

Mr.  Smalley  complied.  Deane  proceeded 
to  unhook  until  the  powerful  engines  which 
had  seemed  to  fret  and  kick  and  hammer  at 
restraint  settled  down  with  a  droning  hum  to 
their  splendid  work,  and  the  big  car  swept 

40 


The  Countess  Diane 

on  until  the  wind  began  to  tear  past  the  well- 
protected  faces  of  the  two  men  and  the  kilo 
metre  stones  fled  by,  seventy,  eighty,  ninety 
and  even  a  hundred  to  the  hour  where  a 
good,  clean  tangent,  unmarred  by  curve  or 
too  much  grade,  gave  opportunity.  But 
for  the  most  part  their  course  was  a  series 
of  swift  rushes  and  quick  slowings  of  speed, 
for  the  road,  while  fine,  like  all  French  roads, 
was  hilly  and  often  tortuous. 

On  they  flew,  the  motor  running  like  a 
watch  and  the  powerful  light  holding  up  for 
sharp  inspection  every  minute  detail  of  the 
roadbed.  They  skimmed  along  high  ridges 
where  the  country  beneath  lay  dark  and 
mysterious,  with  tiny  lights  pricking  out  the 
resting  hamlets;  they  plunged  into  sombre 
forests  where  the  searchlights  seemed  to  bore 
a  blazing  hole  between  the  tree-trunks  for 
the  passage  of  the  car;  they  dipped  into  fra 
grant  valleys  where  the  witch-mist  hung 
from  the  willows  and  a  trout-stream  splashed 
noisily  over  its  rocky  bed.  Almost  before 
they  realized  that  they  were  fairly  started 
Rosporden  was  reached,  and  there  they 
learned  that  their  quarry  had  passed  through 

41 


The  Countess  Diane 

and  turned  northward  on  leaving  the 
village. 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  Deane.  "  He's  go 
ing  by  the  Cotes  du  Nord.  That  means  a 
wild  run  through  some  very  rough  country. 
He  can  never  have  been  through  there  or  he 
wouldn't  tackle  it  in  that  Bois  de  Boulogne 
limousine ! " 

"All  the  better  for  us,"  said  Smalley. 
"  He  will  be  easier  to  trail,  and  we  will  catch 
him  all  the  sooner." 

"  He  will  probably  skirt  along  the  edge  of 
the  Montagnes  Noires,  then  strike  across 
for  Lamballe,"  said  Deane,  shoving  up  his 
speed  as  the  powerful  car  vigorously 
breasted  a  long  up-grade.  "We  will  have 
to  make  our  big  gains  hill-climbing;  the 
turns  in  the  road  hold  down  our  speed  on 
the  levels." 

The  lights  of  a  village  twinkled  out  ahead, 
and  the  big  horn  blared  out  its  warning. 
This  and  the  terrifying  roar  of  the  motor 
as  Deane  opened  up  the  muffler  had  cleared 
the  main  street  even  before  it  was  set  blazing 
in  the  twin  beams  of  the  powerful  reflectors, 
and  they  swept  through  like  a  cyclone  in  a 

42 


The  Countess  Diane 

chaos  of  reverberations,  thrown  back  by  the 
double  row  of  buildings  and  a  syncopated 
chorus  of  barks  and  cries. 

"We  mustn't  get  arrested!"  shouted 
Smalley. 

"  Never  mind  if  we  do! "  answered  Deane. 
"  You  will  not  know  anything  about  it  until 
you  get  back  to  Paris,  and  then  all  that  you 
have  to  do  is  to  pay ! " 

The  next  village  they  approached  more 
quietly,  and  on  stopping  to  inquire  at  several 
places  learned  that  the  other  car  had  pre 
ceded  them  by  half  an  hour. 

'  That  'cross-country  hack  has  got  speed 
possibilities  you  wouldn't  credit  her  with," 
said  Smalley.  "Must  have  a  husky  old 
engine ! " 

"He's  done  well,"  admitted  Deane.  "I 
wouldn't  care  to  drive  the  thing  up  and 
down  these  hills  as  he  must  have.  He  is 
evidently  in  a  hurry,  and  he  wants  to  get  off 
the  main  routes.  I  don't  like  it — not  one 
bit."  And  once  again  the  speed  was  lifted 
until  Smalley,  who  was  not  driving,  began 
to  think  about  his  soul.  Being,  however, 
possessed  of  a  certain  philosophy,  it  sud- 

43 


The  Countess  Diane 

denly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  not  dined, 
and  reaching  in  his  pocket  he  hauled  out  the 
light  lunch  prepared  by  Corentine,  and 
munched  away  with  the  consoling  reflection 
that  a  man  meets  death  as  cheerfully  on  a 
full  stomach  as  upon  an  empty  one. 

Having  eaten  and  refreshed  himself,  Mr. 
Smalley  insisted  upon  taking  his  turn  at 
driving,  and  Deane  was  reluctantly  forced 
to  comply.  Being  too  excited  to  eat  or 
drink,  he  sat  and  stared  ahead  at  the  swiftly 
unfolding  road  until  the  whole  became  a 
swimming  void,  against  which  appeared  the 
ravishing  picture  of  the  Countess  Diane. 

Wilder  and  more  rugged  grew  the  coun 
try.  Great  tumbling  hills  barren  of  trees 
reared  blackly  against  the  sombre  sky.  The 
road  grew  steeper  and  more  tortuous,  some 
times  skirting  a  forest-filled  valley  from 
which  arose  the  sullen  roar  of  a  cataract,  or 
winding  across  bleak  moor-land  covered  with 
bracken  and  studded  with  black  granite 
boulders.  It  was  the  poorest  and  most  deso 
late  part  of  France,  and  such  houses  as  they 
passed  were  mere  hovels  thrown  up  upon  the 
roadside.  Amidst  these  most  depressing 

44 


The  Countess  Diane 

surroundings,  where  but  little  work  was  to 
be  expected  of  the  cantonniers,  they  began 
to  have  tire  troubles,  and  lost  almost  an  hour 
in  shifting  and  mending  inner  tubes. 

By  midnight  they  were  getting  into  a  bet 
ter  country  again,  and  were  encouraged  to 
learn  from  a  pedler  whom  they  overtook  that 
the  other  car  was  less  than  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  ahead. 

"  Looks  as  if  he  were  holding  straight  on 
for  the  coast,"  said  Deane.  "Perhaps  he's 
got  a  house  of  his  own  somewhere." 

At  Lamballe,  which  they  reached  shortly 
after  midnight,  they  learned  that  the  other 
car  had  just  preceded  them,  the  chauffeur 
inquiring  for  the  road  to  Dinan.  Two  kilo 
metres  outside  the  town,  as  they  emerged 
from  a  heavy  grove  of  chestnuts  they  saw  on 
a  turn  ahead  a  bright  beam  of  light  which 
blazed  out,  spraying  the  treetops  with  a 
weird,  unearthly  brilliance. 

"  There  he  is ! "  cried  Smalley. 

"He  has  stopped,"  answered  Deane. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  Mr.  Smalley  threw 
out  the  clutch  and  let  the  car  roll  down  the 
incline. 

45 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Stop  a  little  this  side  and  let  me  go  and 
talk  to  him.  He  might  recognize  you." 

About  fifty  paces  behind  the  other  car 
Mr.  Smalley  brought  his  car  to  a  stop  and 
Deane  stepped  down  and  walked  ahead. 
Two  dark  figures  were  in  the  road  at  the  side 
of  the  car,  and  the  artist  saw  that  the  left 
hind- wheel  was  jacked  up  and  that  the 
smaller  man  was  breaking  out  his  extra 
shoe. 

'You  are  in  difficulty,  Monsieur?"  in 
quired  Deane,  saluting. 

"We  have  torn  a  shoe  on  these  accursed 
flints,"  answered  the  big  man,  somewhat 
stiffly  saluting  in  turn. 

"Perhaps  we  can  be  of  service,"  said 
Deane,  stepping  to  the  side  of  the  car. 

"If  Monsieur  is  not  in  haste,"  said  the 
chauffeur,  "he  could  accommodate  us 
greatly  by  the  loan  of  his  pump.  The  valves 
of  our  own  leak  badly." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Deane.  "  We  are 
in  no  hurry  whatever." 

He  walked  back  to  where  Mr.  Smalley 
was  waiting  in  some  excitement. 

"They  want  to  borrow  our  pump,"  said 
46 


Tlie  Countess  Diane 

Deane.  "  I  can't  see  into  the  limousine  very 
well,  but  there  is  some  one  inside.  Just 
wait  here  and  if  you  get  a  cue  from  me  don't 
stop  to  ask  questions.  Of  course,"  he  con 
cluded  as  he  pulled  out  the  pump,  "if  you 
hear  a  row  you  don't  need  to  wait  to  be  in 
troduced." 

"All  right,  Professsor,"  answered  Mr. 
Smalley  cheerfully.  "  Give  me  a  cigar  and 
then  bulge  in." 

Taking  the  pump,  Deane  returned  to  the 
other  car.  The  Russian  had  mounted  to  the 
driver's  seat,  where  he  sat  muttering  impa 
tiently  at  the  delay  and  tugging  at  his  heavy 
mustache. 

<f Merci,  Monsieur" he  said  shortly.  "  You 
are  most  kind.  As  soon  as  we  have  finished 
I  well  send  my  man  back  with  the  pump." 

"It  is  nothing,"  answered  Deane,  igno 
ring  the  implied  suggestion  that  he  return 
and  wait  in  his  own  car.  "Perhaps  I  can 
be  of  further  assistance." 

"There  is  nothing  more,  thank  you," 
growled  the  Russian.  Deane,  apparently 
not  noticing  his  gruffness,  walked  around 
the  car  as  if  inspecting  it.  lie  did  not  fail 

47 


The  Countess  Diane 

to  observe  the  owner's  nervous  irritation  at 
his  lingering. 

"  Vite — vite! "  he  snarled  at  his  mechani 
cian. 

""  Oui,  oui,  Monsieur! "  panted  the  fright 
ened  man. 

'  You  have  a  very  heavy  car  for  this  coun 
try,"  observed  Deane  casually.  He  stepped 
forward  to  look  at  the  carosserie.  The  Rus 
sian  made  a  quick,  involuntary  gesture  as 
though  to  stop  him,  then  recovered  himself 
and  swore  beneath  his  breath. 

Deane's  eyes  tried  to  pierce  the  gloom 
within  the  vehicle,  but  all  that  he  could  dis 
tinguish  was  a  dark  mass  of  rugs  in  the  far 
corner.  He  stepped  close  to  the  side  of  the 
car  as  if  to  get  a  shield  from  the  wind,  placed 
a  cigar  between  his  lips  and,  with  his  face 
close  to  the  window,  struck  a  fusee.  It  flared 
up  brilliantly,  being  one  of  the  kind  made  to 
use  in  the  wind. 

" Sacrel33  growled  the  Russian  in  a  low 
fury. 

''Pardon'?"  mumbled  Deane,  without 
turning.  He  shielded  the  match  with  his 
hands  and  threw  the  light  directly  into  the 

48 


The  Countess  Diane 

vehicle,  looked  quickly  inside,  and  then,  flick 
ing  away  the  match,  turned  to  the  Rus 
sian. 

"May  I  offer  Monsieur  a  cigar?"  he 
asked.  His  voice  was  composed,  but  his 
heart  was  hammering  furiously,  for  in  the 
quick,  upward  flare  of  the  match  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white  face  and  two 
wild,  terror-stricken  eyes.  But  what  had 
roused  the  fighting-blood  of  the  young  man 
was  the  sight  of  a  crimson  smear  which 
crossed  the  forehead  and  ran  down  the  pal 
lid  face. 

"  Merci!  merci! "  growled  the .  Russian, 
with  a  brusque,  negative  gesture  of  his 
gauntleted  hand.  "I  cannot  smoke  and 
drivel"  He  turned  to  the  chauffeur,  who 
had  adjusted  the  shoe  and  was  connecting 
the  pump.  "Hurry,  you  fool!  Hurry,  I 
tell  you!" 

Deane's  mind  was  working  rapidly, 
grasping  plans  for  a  rescue  only  to  throw 
them  aside.  He  realized  the  need  of  swift 
action,  for  the  chauffeur  had  almost  finished 
inflating  the  tire.  Presently  the  man  paused 
an  instant. 

49 


The  Countess  Diane 

"Eh  bien!"  snarled  his  master,  who  sup 
posed  that  he  had  finished.  "  Start  the 
motor." 

The  man  dropped  the  pump  to  crank  the 
engine,  which  started  off  with  a  roar. 

ff  Depechez! "  snarled  the  Russian.  "  Give 
the  gentleman  his  pump  and  get  into  the 
limousine ! " 

"  One  moment,  Monsieur! "  cried  the  man, 
and  started  to  violently  pump  the  final  re 
maining  strokes.  But  with  the  Russian's 
last  few  words  Deane  had  all  at  once  re 
ceived  his  cue.  He  hurried  back  to  Mr. 
Smalley. 

"Get  down!"  whispered  Deane  fiercely. 
"Get  down,  and  when  this  fellow  comes 
with  the  pump,  grab  him  and  stop  his  mouth. 
Grab  him  and  stop  his  mouth,  d'you  hear?" 

The  quick-witted  Mr.  Smalley  swung  his 
long,  muscular  frame  lightly  to  the  ground. 

"All  right!"  said  he,  and  slipped  quickly 
out  of  his  ulster;  "  but  look  out  how  you  mix 
it  up  with  the  big  brute,  Archie ! " 

"  Never  mind  me — I'll  be  all  right.  Here 
he  comes  now.  Just  you  grab  him  and  stop 
his  gawp;  I'll  take  care  of  my  end."  Even 

50 


The  Countess  Diane 

as  he  spoke  he  saw  the  man  pick  up  the  pump 
and  come  running  toward  them. 

"Via,  Monsieur.  Merd!"  he  panted, 
breathless  from  his  violent  exertions.  He 
held  out  the  pump,  and  the  next  instant 
found  himself  flat  upon  his  back  in  the  road, 
with  Mr.  Smalley  on  top  of  him  and  that 
gentleman's  cap  smothering  the  very  scanty 
breath  which  he  had  left. 

Without  even  waiting  to  see  that  his 
friend  had  the  upper  hand,  Deane  turned 
and  ran  toward  the  other  car,  which  had  al 
ready  started  ahead  under  its  first  speed. 
The  noise  of  the  motor  would  have  quite 
drowned  any  cries  which  might  have  escaped 
from  the  unfortunate  chauffeur. 

"  Get  in,  pig! "  snarled  the  Russian,  with 
out  looking  around. 

Deane  wrenched  open  the  door  and 
plunged  in  headlong.  At  the  same  time  the 
car  sprang  forward  and  threw  him  against 
a  figure  enveloped  in  a  long,  heavy  ulster. 

"Pardon'1  he  muttered,  trying  to  extri 
cate  himself.  His  efforts  were  assisted  with 
more  force  than  politeness  by  a  vigorous 
thrust  from  a  strong  young  pair  of  arms. 

51 


The  Countess  Diane 

"Get  in  front,  where  you  belong!"  said 
a  fierce  but  musical  voice  from  the  corner. 
"  I  will  not  have  you  in  here ! " 

Deane  clambered  into  the  seat  beside  the 
girl. 

"Do  not  make  a  noise,  Mademoiselle," 
said  he.  "  I  am  not  the  chauffeur." 

"Not  the  chauffeur?  Who  arc  you, 
then?" 

"  I  am  an  American — an  artist,"  answered 
Deane,  feeling  slightly  foolish,  although  he 
could  not  have  told  why.  "You  are  the 
Countess  Diane  Roubanoff,  are  you  not?" 

"And  if  I  am?"  answered  the  low,  pas 
sionate  voice.  "Is  that  any  reason  why  I 
should  have  strange  men  tumbling  in  beside 
me?" 

"Please,  do  not  speak  so  loud,"  said 
Deane  desperately,  adding,  "You  don't 
seem  to  understand.  I  have  come  to  rescue 
you!" 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  a  cold 
voice  said  in  perfect  English : 

"  But  I  do  not  understand.  Why  should 
an  American  artist  want  to  rescue  me? " 

"Why  —  eh  —  because "  stammered 

52 


The  Countess  Diane 

Deane  in  some  embarrassment.  "  Don't  you 
want  to  be  rescued?  One  would  naturally 
expect  a  woman  who  has  been  forcibly  ab 
ducted  to  want  to  be  rescued." 

"But  who  are  you?"  whispered  the  girl 
tensely,  "  and  why  are  you  so  determined  to 
rescue  me?" 

"I  can't  very  well  explain  now,"  said 
Deane,  speaking  almost  aloud  in  his  vexa 
tion.  "  I  should  have  brought  my  passport, 
I  suppose.  The  point  is,  do  you  want  to  be 
rescued?  Because  if  you  do  I'll  arrange  it, 
and  if  not  I'll  apologize  for  my  intrusion  and 
clear  out." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  whis 
pered  the  girl.  "  How  are  you  going  to  ar 
range  it?" 

'  You  leave  that  to  me.  My  car  is  follow 
ing  just  behind  us,  and  all  we  have  to  do  is 
to  get  out  of  this  and  into  that.  We  thought, 
of  course,  you'd  want  to  be  rescued,  your 
Cousin  Sam  and  I." 

"My  cousin  who?" 

'Your  cousin,  Sam  Smalley.  He's  an 
American — related  to  you  on  your  mother's 
side.  You  probably  never  saw  him,"  mum- 

53 


The  Countess  Diane 

bled  Deane.  "  I  must  say,  it  seems  a  bit  un 
grateful  of  you,  after  all  the  work  we've 
had •" 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  the  girl,  "but  it's  all 
very  puzzling.  At  any  rate,  anything  is  bet 
ter  than  being  in  the  power  of  that  beast!'* 
she  added  with  a  burst  of  passion.  'You 
may  rescue  me,  please.  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do?" 

"Sh-h!"  said  Deane,  "he  is  looking 
back." 

The  Russian  had  been  driving  very  slowly 
and  looking  back  from  time  to  time,  evi 
dently  wondering  what  had  detained  the 
other  car.  If  he  noticed  the  mumble  of 
voices  from  the  limousine,  which  was  improb 
able  owing  to  the  noise  of  the  motor,  he  made 
no  sign.  Presently  he  started  ahead,  and 
Deane  noticed  that  the  motor  was  not  run 
ning  smoothly  and  that  one  of  the  cylinders 
kept  "missing." 

"  Who  is  that  man  and  why  did  he  kidnap 
you?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"He  is  my  legal  guardian,"  said  the 
Countess  in  a  strained  voice.  "  He  wants  to 
get  me  to  Russia  before  I  become  of  age, 

51 


The  Countess  Diane 

which  will  be  in  less  than  a  month,  as  he 
knows  that  otherwise  he  will  never  get  me 
there  at  all." 

The  last  words  came  from  between  the 
girl's  set  teeth. 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  artist,  "we  will 
attempt  to  fool  him.  But  we  will  have  to  be 
quick.  That  engine  is  going  to  buck  in  a 
minute." 

"To  what?" 

"To  stop.  When  he  slows  down  on  the 
next  hill  I  will  open  the  door.  Then,  when 
he  shifts  his  gears,  we  will  slip  out  and  wait 
for  my  car.  He  will  not  hear  us  for  the 
racket." 

To  the  amazement  of  the  artist  the  Count 
ess  leaned  back  and  broke  into  a  soft,  rip 
pling  laugh. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked 
Deane  suspiciously. 

"What  a  lark!"  she  whispered,  her  lips 
close  to  his  ear.  "  I  would  give  a  good  deal 
to  see  Ivan  Kharkof's  face  when  he  finds 
that  he  has  been  driving  an  empty  car." 

"Is  that  Prince  Kharkof?"  asked  Deane 
quickly. 

55 


The  Countess  Diane 

y/!L' 

'Yes.  Did  you  not  know?  He  is  a  ter 
rible  man.  Don't  you  think  that  you  had 
better  change  your  mind? " 

"  I  know  him  by  reputation,"  said  Deane 
doggedly;  "and  what  I  know  makes  me  all 
the  more  determined  to  get  you  out  of  his 
hands.  Isn't  this  a  hill  in  front  of  us? " 

A  black  rampart  loomed  suddenly  ahead, 
and  presently  the  pitch  of  the  car  and  the 
labored  beat  of  the  engine  told  them  that 
they  had  begun  to  climb.  The  Prince  had 
gone  back  to  "  second,"  and  presently  Deane 
saw  his  bulky  figure  reach  forward  again  for 
the  speed-lever.  The  car  was  almost  at  a 
stop. 

"Come,  be  ready!"  he  whispered,  and  as 
the  Prince  shifted  the  gears  with  much 
grinding  of  cogs  and  curses  at  the  transmis 
sion,  Deane  threw  open  the  door  and  slipped 
to  the  ground.  The  Countess  was  about  to 
follow  when,  suddenly,  the  Prince  turned 
and  looked  directly  at  him. 

"  Look  also  at  the  tires  on  the  other  side," 
he  growled.  Deane,  grasping  the  situation, 
fell  behind  the  car  for  a  moment,  then 
sprang  back  upon  the  running-board. 

56 

=<^ 


The  Countess  Diane 

ff  Bon,  Monsieur! "  he  panted. 

.The  Prince  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but 
continued  cursing  the  motor.  The  car  was 
moving  ahead  at  the  speed  of  a  rapid  walk. 
Deane  was  afraid  each  moment  that  the  mo 
tor  would  stop.  He  thrust  his  head  inside 
the  car. 

"Come!"  he  whispered. 

"We  are  going  too  fast,"  said  the 
Countess. 

"  No,  we're  not.    Come ! " 

The  Countess  slipped  out  and  into  the 
arms  which  Deane  reached  toward  her.  The 
manoeuvre  was  well  timed  for  their  escape, 
if  not  for  their  comfort,  as  at  the  same 
moment  the  Prince  shifted  to  the  next  speed 
ahead.  The  Countess  was  flung  into  the  arms 
of  the  artist  with  such  violence  as  to  throw 
him  on  his  back  in  the  road. 

The  Countess  scrambled  to  her  feet.  She 
gazed  for  a  moment  after  the  rapidly  dwin 
dling  red  light  of  the  car,  then  looked  down 
at  Deane  and  laughed. 

"Me  voila!  I  am  rescued!"  she  cried 
mockingly.  '  You  are  not  hurt? " 

"Only  in  my  pride,"  said  the  artist, 
57 


The  Countess  Diane 

scrambling  up.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  conduct 
your  rescue  in  precisely  that  way." 

"  At  least,"  said  the  Countess,  "  it  appears 
to  be  effective.  Now,  if  you  please,  my 
cousin  and  the  motor-car,  for  I  am  bare 
footed,  very,  very  hungry,  and" — she 
yawned — "  it  is  long  past  my  bedtime." 

"  Good  gracious !  do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you  are  standing  there  on  your  bare  feet!" 
cried  the  horrified  artist.  "Let  me  carry 
you  up  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  we  will 
wait  there  for  our  car." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  Countess,  "  but 
I  have  been  carried  enough  for  one  day.  I 
fought  horribly  when  Ivan  caught  me,  but 
all  that  I  accomplished  by  it  was  to  scratch 
my  forehead  on  his  scarfpin.  He  has  the 
strength  of  a  bear,  that  man!" 

Ignoring  the  protests  of  the  young  man, 
the  Countess  picked  her  way  daintily  across 
the  road.  Once  or  twice  when  a  pebble 
came  beneath  her  foot  she  gave  a  little 
"  ale! "  the  cry  of  French  children  when  hurt. 
But  on  reaching  the  bank,  which  was  rough 
and  bushy,  she  paused  and  looked  despair 
ingly  at  the  artist. 

58 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Can't  we  sit  here  and  wait?"  she  asked. 

"  It  would  not  be  safe,"  said  Deane.  "  Jhe 
Prince  is  apt  to  miss  us  and  return  at  any 
moment.  You  must  let  me  carry  you  up  to 
the  trunk  of  that  big  tree.  You  cannot 
walk,  because  it  is  a  chestnut  and  the  ground 
will  be  covered  with  burs." 

"I  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  replied 
the  Countess  angrily,  the  unshod  condition 
of  her  small  foot  alone  preventing  her  from 
stamping  it  viciously.  "  I  have  been  mauled 
and  hauled  about  enough!  If  it  is  a  ques 
tion  of  being  carried  I  will  stop  where  I 
am!" 

Deane  slipped  off  his  ulster  and  spread  it 
upon  the  ground. 

"  Sit  down,  please,"  said  he,  "  and  we  will 
see  if  we  can't  rig  you  up  some  sort  of  pan- 
toufles.  Take  these  big  gauntlets  of  mine 
and  our  mufflers." 

'  That  is  a  good  plan,"  said  the  Countess. 
•'  You  are  really  quite  an  intelligent  person, 
after  all!" 

Declining  the  young  man's  assistance,  the 
girl  quickly  improvised  a  pair  of  moccasins; 
then,  taking  Deane's  hand,  the  two  scrambled 

59 


The  Countess  Diane 

up  the  bank  and  seated  themselves  with  their 
backs  against  the  big  chestnut.  A  fringe  of 
bushes  screened  them  from  the  road  and  be 
hind  them  there  appeared  to  be  a  forest. 
From  below  them  in  the  wooded  darkness 
there  came  the  noise  of  running  water. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  eat  and  drink  in 
your  car?"  asked  the  Countess.  "I  am  dy 
ing  of  hunger  and  thirst." 

"Poor  lady,"  said  Deane;  "did  he  starve 
you  also?"  He  reached  into  his  pocket  and 
pulled  out  the  sandwiches  and  chicken  pre 
pared  by  Corentine,  and  which  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  chase  he  had  quite  forgotten. 

"  Here  is  some  lunch  which  I  brought  for 
you,  and  while  you  are  examining  it  I  will 
go  to  that  spring  I  hear  and  get  you  some 
water." 

The  Countess  accepted  the  sandwiches 
with  the  grateful  philosophy  of  a  trained 
campaigner,  and  the  artist  departed  in  quest 
of  water. 

After  a  somewhat  precarious  journey 
to  the  bottom  of  a  glen,  dark  as  a  pocket 
and  sown  with  mossy  rocks  and  the  toughest 
of  briers,  he  returned  with  the  cover  of  his 

60 


The  Countess  Diane 

flask  and  the  inverted  top  of  his  leathern 
cap  filled  with  water. 

;'  That  in  the  flask-cover  is  to  drink,"  he 
explained,  "  and  the  other  is  for  the  bath.  If 
you  will  let  me  wash  your  face  I  think  that 
it  may  save  your  Cousin  Sam  a  shock!" 

The  Countess  dropped  the  cup  which  she 
had  just  emptied,  and  stared  at  him  in  angry 
bewilderment. 

"Wash  my  face!  What  do  you  mean? 
Wash  my  face!  " 

'Yes,"  said  Deane.  "It's  smeared  with 
blood  from  the  scratch  on  your  fore 
head " 

"Oh,  is  it?  What  a  fright  I  must  be! 
I'm  glad  it's  dark."  The  Countess  quickly 
erased  the  stains  of  the  fray,  then  leaned 
back  against  the  tree  and  yawned. 

"I  am  almost  asleep,"  she  said.  "What 
do  you  suppose  has  delayed  your  car?  Per 
haps  Cousin  Sam  has  got  discouraged  and 
gone  back  to  bed!"  She  smothered  with 
difficulty  another  yawn.  "I  wonder  what 
makes  me  so  sleepy." 

'  You  have  been  through  enough  to  make 
you  a  bit  jaded,"  said  Deane  dryly.  "The 

61 


The  Countess  Diane 

wonder  is  that  you  haven't  nervous  prostra 
tion,  and  heart  disease,  and  pneumonia,  and 
croup,  and " 

"Oh,  nonsense!  I'm  not  made  of  me 
ringue!  I  think  that  it  is  the  speed  of  the 
car  which  makes  it  so — hard — to  keep 
awake " 

The  sleepy  words  seemed  more  and  more 
difficult.  Deane  glanced  at  her  and  saw  that 
the  pretty  head  with  its  great,  ruffled  mane 
of  hair  was  nodding  farther  and  farther. 
Suddenly  the  Countess  pitched  forward, 
then  recovered  herself  with  an  effort. 

"What ?"  she  asked  drowsily.  "If 

you  don't  mind  I  think — that  I  will — 
will "  and  again  the  head  bobbed  for 
ward. 

Deane  arose  quietly  and  threw  his  heavy 
ulster  over  her,  then  seating  himself  with  his 
back  propped  against  the  tree,  he  drew  the 
Countess  gently  down  until  she  was  resting 
with  her  head  above  his  knee.  The  change 
of  position  roused  her,  but  not  to  wakeful- 
ness. 

"What ?"  she  murmured.  "Yes, 

thank  you — warm  enough "  And  with 

62 


The  Countess  Diane 

a  gentle  sigh  the  Countess  Diane  lapsed  into 
a  deep  and  restful  oblivion. 

Deane  turned  up  his  coat-collar,  shoved 
his  hands  deep  into  the  side  pockets  of  his 
jacket,  and  settled  down  to  wait.  He  did 
not  dare  to  doze  for  fear  that  Mr.  Smalley, 
flying  on  his  trail,  might  slip  past  before  he 
could  hail  him. 

The  night  grew  old,  the  silence  deepened, 
if  this  were  possible,  and  remained  unbroken 
by  the  distant  beat  of  machinery  for  which 
the  soul  of  the  artist  so  yearned.  Yet  he 
was  not  unhappy.  He  was  chilled,  to  be 
sure,  for  although  midsummer  the  air  was 
keen,  and  he  was  very  hungry,  for  the 
Countess  had  thoughtlessly  eaten  his  supper, 
light  at  the  best.  Also  the  Countess  was 
snugly  wrrapped  in  his  ulster,  had  been  given 
the  remaining  swallow  of  brandy  left  in  his 
flask,  and  was  wearing  his  buckskin  gaunt 
lets  upon  her  dainty  feet.  In  spite  of  all 
this,  or,  more  truthfully,  because  of  it,  the 
spirits  of  the  artist  never  drooped,  his  sole 
concern  being  the  non-appearance  of  Mr. 
Smalley  and  the  motor-car. 

Countess  never  stirred.     Her  soft, 
63 


The  Countess  Diane 

long  respirations  told  of  a  deep  and  refresh 
ing  sleep.  Possibly,  the  artist  dozed  uncon 
sciously,  as  it  did  not  seem  long  to  him  before 
the  first  mysterious  light  of  the  early  sum 
mer  dawn  began  to  etch  out  the  perspectives. 
Then  sound  seemed  born  again;  cocks 
crowed  in  the  distance,  he  heard  the  lowing 
of  cattle,  the  peevish,  early-morning  barking 
of  a  dog,  and  sleepy  twitterings  and  chirp 
ings  arose  in  the  foliage  overhead.  Soon 
peasant  carts  began  to  pass,  heading  toward 
Lamballe,  and  Deane  remembered  that  it 
was  a  market  day.  Lighter  it  grew;  the 
chirpings  in  the  forest  ripened  into  song. 
Three-  and  four-horse  tandems  passed  down 
the  road  in  a  long  procession;  peasants 
trudged  along  afoot,  some  shoving  voitures 
a  bras.  It  seemed  to  the  artist,  now  thor 
oughly  congealed,  that  the  sun  would  never 
rise.  The  pretty  head  of  the  Countess  as 
seen  in  the  fresh,  early  light  was  ravishing 
as  ever,  but  its  weight  had  now  assumed 
ponderosity,  and  Deane  was  sure  that  his 
left  side  was  paralyzed  from  the  waist  down. 
Then  suddenly  the  sun  burst  up  over  the 
treetops,  almost  with  an  anthem  in  the  glory 

64 


The  Countess  Diane 

of  a  perfect  morning1.  Deane  felt  his  heart 
expand.  He  looked  long  and  earnestly  at 
the  Countess,  whose  sleep  was  obviously 
lighter.  Her  cheek  was  resting  on  her  hand ; 
the  rich  hair,  ruddy  in  the  golden  light,  had 
broken  from  its  last  restraint  and  tumbled 
over  her  neck  and  shoulders.  There  was  a 
faint  flush  upon  her  cheek,  and  the  long 
lashes,  several  tones  darker  than  her  hair, 
swept  down  in  a  perfect  arc.  The  short 
and  slightly  retrousse  nose  and  pouting  lips 
wore  the  expression  seen  on  the  face  of  a 
sleeping  child,  innocent,  untroubled,  confi 
dent. 

Up  came  the  sun,  high  over  the  treetops, 
and  gazed  warmly  into  the  Countess'  face. 
Deane  laughed  to  see  the  way  in  which  she 
wrinkled  up  her  pretty  nose  as  if  to  sneeze. 
Then  she  did  sneeze,  and  promptly  awoke. 
Up  went  the  long  lashes,  the  vivid  blue  eyes 
looked  straight  into  his  with  a  curious  ex 
pression  of  sleepy  indifference.  Then,  as 
he  watched,  charmed  and  interested  at  the 
awakening,  full  consciousness  blazed  up  in 
their  depths,  and  the  Countess  thrust  herself 
quickly  upward  with  her  strong  young  arms. 

65 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Mon  Dieu !    Where  am  I  ? "  she  cried. 

Deane  looked  at  her  smilingly,  but  did  not 
reply.  The  different  stages  of  her  return 
ing  consciousness  from  deep  sleep  were  too 
pretty  to  interrupt. 

She  stared  up  into  his  face,  and  as  she 
did  so  a  great  wave  of  color  flooded  her  own. 
Her  eyes  fell;  then  she  glanced  up  at  him 
shyly  and  began  to  laugh.  Deane  joined, 
and  for  a  minute  or  two  they  gave  them 
selves  up  to  mirth. 

"dell "  cried  the  Countess.  "  What  a  sit 
uation!  "  She  clasped  her  hands  in  a  horror 
which  was  part  real,  part  mockery.  "  Where 
is  the  motor-car — and  my  Cousin  Sam?" 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  asking  myself 
all  night,  Countess,"  answered  Deane.  "  He 
has  either  got  en  panne  or  'left  the  road.' 
Sam  would  never  quit  the  trail  as  long  as 
a  wheel  would  turn!" 

"  I  hope  Cousin  Sam  is  not  hurt,"  said  the 
Countess  demurely.  "But  what  are  we 
to  do?" 

"  We  must  certainly  get  to  Dinan  to-day," 
said  Deane.  "It  must  be  fifty  kilometres 
from  here,  which  is  too  far  to  drive,  but  we 

66 


The  Countess  Diane 

are  quite  near  Lamballe,  and  I  happen  to 
know  that  there  is  a  train  which  leaves  there 
for  Dinan  at  about  five  in  the  afternoon, 
as  I  passed  through  en  route  from  St.  Brieuc 
not  long  ago." 

"But  I  can't  travel  this  way!"  cried  the 
Countess.  "  I  have  not  even  a  hair-ribbon!" 

Mr.  Deane  reached  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  produced  the  black  velvet  bow  which 
he  had  picked  up  on  the  beach  the  day 
before. 

"  Permit  me  to  supply  you  with  one,"  said 
he  with  a  smile. 

"It  is  my  own!"  cried  the  Countess. 
"Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"  On  the  beach.  It  is  a  long  story,  and  just 
now  present  history  is  far  more  important. 
It  has  occurred  to  me  that  if  you  are  to  es 
cape  recapture  a  disguise  will  be  necessary. 
The  Prince  could  not  have  gone  far  before 
discovering  your  escape,  and  he  will  rake 
this  part  of  the  country  with  a  fine-toothed 
comb.  How  would  you  like  to  be  a  peasant 
girl  for  a  few  hours? " 

"  I  would  be  anything  for  a  few  hours 
rather  than  be  caught!"  replied  the  Count- 

67 


The  Countess  Diane 

ess.  "  I  think  that  a  peasant's  costume 
might  be  rather  chic.  All  that  I  have  on  be 
neath  this  ulster  is  a  tattered  old  gown  made 
for  garden  fetes!" 

"  The  Prince,"  said  Deane,  "  thinks,  no 
doubt,  that  you  have  bribed  his  chauffeur  to 
help  you  to  escape.  He  has  no  reason  to  sus 
pect  me,  so  his  spies  will  be  looking  for  you 
and  the  man.  Now,  if  I  could  get  you  a 
peasant  costume  it  would  be  a  very  effective 
disguise,  as  we  would  pass  for  an  artist  and 
his — eh — model. ' ' 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  the  Countess  shortly. 

"If  I  can  get  the  costume,"  continued 
Deane,  "  I  would  stop  one  of  these  peasant 
women  and  engage  her  services  as  a  maid. 
She  would  show  you  how  to  wear  the  thing." 

As  they  were  discussing  the  question  there 
came  toiling  up  the  road  one  of  the  big 
pedlers'  wagons  so  often  met  with  in  the 
provinces.  Deane  descended  and  explained 
to  the  pedler  that  he  was  an  artist  and  had 
need  of  a  complete  peasant  costume  for  his 
model.  This  the  man  wras  able  to  supply, 
and  the  artist  also  purchased  some  shoes 
and  stockings,  carrying  up  an  assortment 

68 


The  Countess  Diane 

from  which  the  Countess  made  her  selection. 
Last  of  all  he  requisitioned  from  the  mer 
chant's  private  store  some  bread  and  cheese, 
eggs,  coif  ee,  and  a  piece  of  sausage. 

"  First  of  all,"  said  the  young  man,  as  he 
returned  to  the  Countess,  "  we  will  go  down 
to  the  brook  and  cook  our  breakfast.  After 
that  I  will  engage  the  services  of  a  maid, 
when  you  can  retire  to  the  sylvan  depths  and 
change  your  costume  while  I  am  taking  a 
nap." 

He  kindled  a  tiny  fire  on  the  edge  of  the 
brook  and  set  some  water  to  boil  in  one  of 
the  little  tin  pails  which  he  had  bought  for 
the  purpose.  The  Countess  watched  his 
preparations  with  the  deepest  interest. 

"  Being  kidnaped  is  very  stimulating  to 
the  appetite,"  she  sighed,  as  she  curled  up 
upon  the  moss  and  waited  for  the  water  to 
boil.  'You  have  no  idea  how  good  those 
things  tasted  last  night." 

She  stopped  suddenly  and  glanced  at  the 
artist  with  a  startled  look.  "Did  you  have 
anything  to  eat?  Was  that  your  supper?" 
she  asked  quickly. 

"Oh,  yes — lots — —  began  the  young 
69 


The  Countess  Diane 

man.  The  Countess  looked  at  him  search- 
ingly. 

"I  do  not  believe  you!"  said  she  slowly, 
a  troubled  look  in  her  sapphire  eyes.  "  You 
have  an  awfully  'gone'  look!  Tell  me,  on 
your  word  of  honor,  did  you  have  anything 
to  eat  last  night?" 

"Eh — now  that  you  mention  it,"  began 
Deane  apologetically,  "  I  believe  I  did  over 
look  it.  You  see,  motoring  fast  always  has 
a  very  peculiar  effect  upon  me.  Quite  takes 
away  my  appetite — thought  of  food  becomes 
absolutely  repulsively " 

"  I  am  a  beast! "  interrupted  the  Countess. 
She  arose  to  her  feet,  and  walking  to  where 
the  artist  was  coaxing  the  fire  with  tiny 
twigs,  stood  looking  down  at  him  in 
tently. 

"  I  wish  to  know  something  more,"  said 
she. 

"What?"  said  Deane,  breaking  a  fagot 
upon  his  knee. 

"Look  at  me,  please!" 

The  artist  looked  up  defiantly.  The  blue 
eyes  of  the  Countess  were  fixed  upon  him 
with  a  singular  intentness  of  expression, 

70 


The  Countess  Diane 

which  for  some  reason  set  the  young  man's 
heart  to  beating  wildly. 

"  Did  you  get  any  sleep  last  night? "  asked 
the  girl. 

"Sleep?    Oh,  my,  yes — plenty— 

"  I  do  not  believe  you !  You  were  in  pre 
cisely  the  same  position  when  I  awakened— 
and  I  had  your  ulster  over  me — and  your  lips 
were  blue.  You  would  not  have  dared  to  go 
to  sleep  for  fear  the  car  might  pass.  What 
makes  those  dark  circles  under  your  eyes? 
I  am  a  beast!" 

"No,  you're  not;  you  are  a  dead  game 
sport!"  ' 

"A  what?" 

"  A  brave  young  person  with  the  disposi 
tion  of  an  angel!  Most  women  would  be 
calling  me  fighting-names  for  luring  them 
into  a  mess  like  this!  Stop  calling  yourself 
a  beast,  and  clear  off  that  flat  stone  for  a 
breakfast-table !  '"* 

The  Countess  did  not  stir.  "How  did 
you  happen  to  rescue  me? "  she  asked.  "  You 
took  your  life  in  your  hands,  getting  into 
that  car !  What  made  you  want  to  do 
it?" 

71 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Go  over  there  and  sit  down,  and  I  will 
tell  you  while  the  eggs  are  b'ilin' ;  you  make 
me  nervous.  I'm  afraid  you  may  get  on 
fire." 

tThe  Countess  gave  him  another  look,  then 
slowly  obeyed.  In  a  few  brief  words  Mr. 
Deane  related  the  whole  series  of  events. 

"It  is  very  wonderful!"  she  murmured, 
when  he  had  finished.  "  But  I  don't  under 
stand  now  what  made  you  so  determined 
to  rescue  me." 

"My  friends  would  call  it  my  meddle 
some  nature." 

"  Was  it  that? "  The  Countess'  deep  blue 
eyes  regarded  him  curiously. 

"Partly." 

"What  else?" 

"  Call  it  chivalry,  if  you  like,"  said  Deane 
mockingly.  "  There  is  still  a  little  left.  Here 
— have  an  egg?" 

The  Countess  took  the  egg  from  his  hand, 
and  as  she  did  so  their  eyes  met,  not  casually, 
but  in  a  deep  look  which  brought  with  it  a 
quick  flame  of  color  in  the  face  of  each.  A 
sudden  shyness  fell  upon  the  girl,  and  she 
ate  her  breakfast  almost  in  silence.  As  for 

72 


The  Countess  Diane 

the  artist,  his  social  obligations  as  host  con 
fined  themselves  principally  to  the  prepara 
tion  of  eggs,  sausage,  and  coffee. 

When  they  had  quite  finished  Deane,  lean 
ing  back  against  a  tree,  surveyed  the  Count 
ess  with  mingled  admiration  and  amuse 
ment. 

'You  are  at  home  in  Arcady,"  he  ob 
served. 

"  I  am  at  home  in  most  places.  You  see, 
I  have  lived  a  little  bit  of  everywhere." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me,"  said 
Deane,  "why  the  Prince  is  so  determined 
to  drag  you  off  to  Russia? " 

"  So  that  he  can  marry  me,"  replied  the 
Countess  with  unconcern.  "  It  would  not  be 
so  easy  to  marry  me  against  my  will  here  in 
France." 

"  But  if  he  is  your  legal  guardian  why  was 
it  necessary  for  him  to  haul  you  off  by  the 
hair  of  your  head,  half-dressed,  and  with 
nothing  to  eat  or  drink? " 

"  No  doubt  it  seemed  to  him  easier.  My 
feelings  did  not  matter." 

Deane  regarded  her  thoughtfully,  then 
rose  to  his  feet. 

73 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  If  you  will  wait  here,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
go  and  catch  you  a  nice,  motherly  maid,  who 
will  help  you  to  fool  this  animal!" 

He  walked  across  to  the  road  and  there 
waited  until  there  came  along  a  well-appear 
ing  woman,  carrying  a  basket  of  eggs.  Hav 
ing  explained  to  her  the  nature  of  the  serv 
ices  required,  she  readily  consented  and  fol 
lowed  the  artist  to  where  the  Countess  was 
waiting. 

"  Here  is  your  maid,"  said  Deane.  "  While 
you  are  undergoing  your  transformation  I 
shall  catch  a  few  winks.  If  I  am  asleep  when 
you  return,  wake  me,  please." 

He  flung  himself  upon  the  moss,  but  the 
Countess  interfered. 

'  You  must  not  lie  there,"  said  she,  "  you 
will  catch  cold."  With  a  quick  movement 
she  slipped  off  the  ulster  which  she  had  been 
wearing,  and  stood  before  him  in  the  long, 
pale,  azure  Empire  gown. 

"  Lie  on  this  coat,"  said  she,  spreading  it 
upon  the  ground. 

The  artist  obeyed.  The  Countess  then 
covered  him  carefully  with  the  other  ulster, 
and  stepping  back  surveyed  him  with  a 

74 


The  Countess  Diane 

smile.  Deane  had  never  conceived  so  ravish 
ing  a  picture  as  was  made  by  the  girl  who 
stood  smiling  against  the  background  of 
plushy  green.  The  quaint  old  gown,  with 
its  open  neck,  and  sleeves  which  stopped  be 
tween  the  shoulder  and  elbow,  contrasted 
charmingly  in  its  cool,  pale  tints  with  the 
warm,  ruddy  coloring  of  the  girl's  rich  hair 
and  creamy  skin,  and  to  the  fascinated  eyes 
of  the  artist  she  seemed  like  a  dryad  just 
freed  from  one  of  the  neighboring  tree- 
trunks. 

"Go  to  sleep!"  said  she,  and  raised  one 
finger  to  her  lips.  Deane  pretended  to  close 
his  eyes,  when  the  Countess,  followed  by 
the  smiling  peasant  woman,  turned  and 
glided  off  into  the  woods. 

When  the  artist  awoke  the  sun  was  far 
past  the  meridian.  He  sat  up  and  rubbed 
his  eyes. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  waken  you,"  said  a 
fresh  voice  at  his  elbow,  "  but  you  said  that 
the  train  did  not  leave  until  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  you  seemed  to  be  enjoying  your 
self  so  much ! " 

He  turned  to  see  the  Countess  en  pay- 

75 


The  Countess  Diane 

sanne  sitting  upon  the  mossy  bank,  regard 
ing  him  anxiously. 

"  How  do  I  look? "  she  asked. 

"You  look  charming,"  said  he.  "How 
do  you  feel?" 

"  Horridly.  Like  a  mummy.  This  bodice 
is  at  least  half  an  inch  thick  and  the  same 
shape  all  of  the  way  down.  Haven't  these 
women  any  waists?" 

"  No,"  said  Deane. 

"I  positively  draw  the  line  at  sabots. 
Must  I  have  all  of  my  hair  under  this  nasty 
little  hood?" 

"  It  is  exceedingly  bad  form  for  a  peasant 
girl  to  permit  a  single  lock  of  hair  to  show," 
said  Deane,  "but  as  you  are  posing  as  a 
model  I  think  that  you  might  stretch  a  point 
by  loosening  the  coiffe  enough  to  be  cool. 
It  must  be  very  uncomfortable  the  way 
it  is;  you  look  as  if  your  hair  was  pulled 
back  so  tightly  that  you  could  not  shut  your 
eyes ! "  He  laughed. 

The  Countess  stared  at  him  with  open 
mouth  and  eyes,  looking  curiously  like  an 
overgrown  peasant  child;  then  an  angry 
color  flared  into  her  pretty  face. 

76 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  I  will  not  be  laughed  at  like  that !  What 
right  had  you  to  interfere,  I  want  to  know? 
Do  you  call  it  rescuing  a  girl  to  pitch  her 
out  of  a  motor-car  headfirst  on  a  dark  night 
and  then  make  her  masquerade  about  look 
ing  like  a  bolster?"  The  Countess  was  rap 
idly  working  herself  into  a  fury.  "  I  will 

not  wear  these  ridiculous  things !"  she 

cried.    "  I  will  not  be  made  a  fool  of — for 
you  to  laugh  at !    I — I " 

"  Stop  it! "  said  Deane  sternly.  "  Stop  it 
at  once!  You  have  no  right  to  talk  like 
that ! "  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stood  in 
front  of  the  enraged  Countess  and  shook  his 
finger  in  her  face,  his  own  so  stern  that  the 
girl's  blue  eyes  opened  wide.  "  Did  you  not 
choose  to  be  rescued?  And  now  you  are 
kicking  up  all  of  this  fuss  purely  through 
foolish,  offended  vanity!  I  am  ashamed  of 
you!  My  own  regret  is  that  you  look  as 
pretty  as  you  do!  I  chose  this  costume," 
continued  the  wily  painter,  "especially  in 
the  hope  that  it  might  conceal,  or  at  least 
minimize,  your  very  unusual  beaut — eh — 
attractiveness,  and  so  make  you  less  conspic 
uous  !  One  would  think  that  you  were  dress- 

77 


The  Countess  Diane 

ing  for  a  diplomatic  ball  instead  of  to  es 
cape  from  a  brute  who  handled  you  as  if 
you  were  a  runaway  pup!  I  am  surprised. 
What"-— he  lowered  his  voice  to  a  tone  of 
sternest  reproach—  "  What  do  you  think  that 
your  Cousin  Sam  would  say?" 

"  I — I "  She  raised  her  eyes  in 

frightened  defiance.  "  I  don't  care  what  my 
Cousin  Sam  or  any " 

"Hush!"  said  Deane  harshly.  ;'You 
don't  realize  what  you  are  saying!  If  you 
knew  how  your  Uncle  Sam — I  mean  your 
Cousin  Sam — and  I  had  risked  our  necks, 
driving  a  fast  car  on  a  pitch-dark  night  at 
150  kilometres  an  hour — for  shame! " 

The  Countess  dropped  her  eyes  again. 

"  I — I'm  sorry,"  she  whispered.  "  Do — 
do  you  really  think  that  I  am — pretty 

'  You  are  far  too  pretty  for  your  safety, 
my  dear  child!"  said  Deane  paternally. 
"  Now  let's  go,  for  it's  getting  late." 

They  walked  across  to  the  road  and  there, 
when  they  had  gone  but  a  short  distance 
toward  Lamballe,  they  were  overtaken  by  a 
peasant  driving  a  two-wheeled  cart,  which 
Deane  promptly  chartered  to  transport  them 

78 


The  Countess  Diane 

for  the  rest  of  the  way.  Proceeding  at  once 
to  the  railroad  station,  the  artist  was  pleased 
to  discover  that  their  train  was  due  to  leave 
in  a  little  over  an  hour.  As  the  sight  of  a 
handsome  young  man  in  stylish  motoring 
costume  wandering  about  with  a  conspicu 
ously  pretty  peasant  girl  promised  to  excite 
attention  of  an  undesired  character,  Deane 
decided  that  the  best  place  in  which  to  wait 
would  be  the  station  itself.  As  the  ticket-of 
fice  had  not  yet  opened  and  the  waiting- 
room  was  empty,  he  secured  some  fruit  and 
sandwiches,  which  he  and  the  Countess  were 
contentedly  discussing  when  there  came 
from  just  outside  the  window  the  roar  of 
an  automobile. 

Moved  by  a  common  impulse,  the  Count 
ess  and  Deane  leaped  to  their  feet  and, 
with  their  heads  thrust  together,  peered 
through  the  grimy  glass.  A  big  limousine 
car  was  swinging  up  to  the  platform,  the 
single  occupant,  who  was  driving,  having 
come  apparently  to  learn  something  in  re 
gard  to  the  trains,  for  he  swung  heavily  to 
the  platform  without  stopping  the  motor. 

The  Countess  seized  the  muscular  arm  of 
.79. 


The  Countess  Diane 

the  artist  in  a  grip  which,  strong  as  it  was, 
the  young  man  scarcely  felt,  for  there,  not 
three  feet  from  them,  with  his  great  hand 
on  the  knob  of  the  door,  and  his  wicked, 
bearded  face  set  in  a  savage  scowi,  stood 
Prince  Ivan  Kharkof  himself! 


80 


Ill 

HE  Prince  threw  the  door  vio- 
lently  open  and  entered.  As  he 
did  so  Deane  seized  the  Countess 
by  both  shoulders  and  spun  her 
about  so  that  her  back  was  turned  to  the 
Prince  and  her  face  toward  the  window. 
Frightened  though  she  was,  the  girl's  quick 
resentment  was  roused  by  this  violence.  With 
an  impatient  gesture  she  flung  the  artist's 
hands  from  her  shoulders,  so  that  as  Prince 
Kharkof  entered  the  tableau  presented  to 
his  eyes  was  that  of  a  pretty  peasant  girl 
coquettishly  freeing  herself  from  the  impor 
tunate  arms  of  a  gay  young  knight  of  the 
automobile. 

He  glanced  at  the  pair  and  grunted.  His 
wicked  eyes  rested  for  a  moment  on  the 
graceful  figure  of  the  girl,  which  even  the 
shapeless  costume  could  not  entirely  conceal. 
"Pouf!"  said  he,  and  walking  to  the 
ticket-booth  he  rapped  sharply  on  the  closed 
shutter  and  swore.  Then  he  turned  and 
looked  at  Deane. 

81 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  Monsieur,  when  the 
next  train  leaves  for  San  Malo?"  he  asked 
gruffly. 

"At  a  quarter  to  six,  Monsieur,"  an 
swered  Deane,  eying  him  warily. 

The  Prince  raised  his  heavy  eyebrows, 
then  looked  sharply  at  the  young  man.  Dur 
ing  their  interview  of  the  previous  nig*ht 
Deane  had  worn  his  winter  lunettes,  the  flaps 
of  which  concealed  his  features,  but  he  saw 
at  once  that  the  Russian  recognized  his 
voice. 

" Tiensl"  said  he.  "  Are  you  not  the  gen 
tleman  who  kindly  assisted  me  last  night  with 
the  loan  of  a  pump?" 

Deane  bowed.  "  I  had  that  honor,"  said 
he.  "I  trust  that  you  had  no  further  dif 
ficulty.  We  were  less  fortunate,  as  our 
motor  began  to  act  badly  immediately  you 
had  proceeded." 

"That  is  too  bad,"  growled  the  Prince. 
"Accidents  are  often  contagious."  His 
swarthy  face  darkened,  then  his  small  twin 
kling  eyes  shifted  to  the  Countess,  whose 
back  was  still  turned  to  him. 

"  These  women ! "  he  said,  as  if  to  himself, 

82 


The  Countess  Diane 

then  muttering  something  in  Russian  which 
Deane  could  not  understand,  he  touched  his 
hat  in  a  perfunctory  way  and  plunged  out 
through  the  door.  Fearing  that  he  might 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Countess'  face 
through  the  window,  Deane  snatched  the 
girl  away  with  more  force  than  ceremony. 

The  Countess  turned  upon  him  furiously. 
"  How  dare  you  drag  me  around  like  that! " 
she  demanded  with  a  vicious  stamp  of  her 
foot. 

Deane  did  not  reply.  He  was  intently 
watching  the  Prince,  who  climbed  into  his 
car,  threw  in  the  clutch  and,  trundling 
slowly  across  the  square,  disappeared 
through  the  arch  of  what  appeared  to  be  the 
garage  of  a  hotel. 

"Answer  me!"  cried  the  Countess  pas 
sionately. 

"What?"  said  Deane,  his  eyes  still  fol 
lowing  the  disappearing  car. 

"  I  wish  you  to  understand,"  said  the 
Countess,  "  that  Prince  or  no  Prince,  I  will 
not  submit  to  being  pushed  and  pulled 
about— 

"Nonsense!"  said  Deane  sharply.  "If 
83 


The  Countess  Diane 

he  had  seen  your  face,  do  you  know  what 
would  have  happened?  He  would  have 
grabbed  you  up  as  a  lion  takes  a  cub,  thrown 
you  into  that  car,  and  there  would  have  been 
an  end  to  your  freedom — and  all  of  this 
trouble  for  nothing!" 

"  What  would  you  have  done  if  he  had? " 
asked  the  Countess,  looking  at  him  aslant. 

"What  your  Cousin  Sam  did  yesterday — 
hit  him  on  the  jaw.  But  I'm  afraid  that 
it  would  not  have  been  equally  effective.  I 
never  took  boxing  lessons  with  a  prize 
fighter." 

iThe  Countess  surveyed  him  critically. 
"Do  you  know,"  said  she,  "I  would  rather 
like  to  see  you  fight?" 

"  Little  savage !  Perhaps  you  may  before 
this  business  is  finished,  though  I  sincerely 
hope  not." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could,"  said  the  Count 
ess  thoughtfully.  Her  blue  eyes  examined 
the  well-groomed,  faultlessly-dressed  figure, 
and  she  laughed  with  a  shade  of  irony. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  rumpled  up ! " 
said  she.  '  You  look  now  as  if  you  had  just 
come  from  a  reception,  instead  of  having 

84 


The  Countess  Diane 

driven  a  car  half  the  night  and  sat  with  your 
back  against  a  tree  for  the  other  half.  I 
suppose  "• —her  red  lip  curled  scornfully — 
*'that  you  are  a  very  great  ladies'  man!" 

"  I  try  to  be  agreeable,"  said  Deane. 

"  And  it  is  only  when  you  get  some  poor 
girl  who  is  alone  and  unprotected  and 
hounded"  —the  Countess'  voice  quavered — 
"that  you  become  rough  and — cross — and 
—brutal " 

"When  a  good  many  men,"  interrupted 
Deane,  "would  be  gentle  and  affectionate 
and,  perhaps,  even  demonstrative.  Which 
do  you  think  that  you  would  prefer  under 
your  peculiar  circumstances?" 

The  Countess  dropped  her  eyes  and 
turned  half  from  him. 

'You — you  always  make  me  act  like  a 
fool !  At  least  you  make  me  look — I  mean, 

feel — I  mean Oh,  you  are  so  superior, 

and  sure,  and — and The  Countess 

turned  her  back  upon  him  and  looked  out  of 
the  window. 

Deane  studied  her  in  some  perplexity.  He 
reflected  that  the  high  spirit  of  the  girl 
had  probably  been  suffering  all  day  from  the 

85 


The  Countess  Diane 

consciousness  of  her  utter  dependence  upon 
him,  a  stranger.  It  occurred  to  him  also  that 
her  pride  had  no  doubt  been  stung  by  the 
humiliation  of  her  peasant-girl  disguise.  The 
fragmentary  remarks  and  sly  glances  with 
which  the  people  whom  they  had  passed  had 
been  pleased  to  favor  them  were  none  of 
them  lost  upon  the  Countess.  Then  the 
brusqueness  of  his  own  treatment  of  her 
when  Kharkof  appeared  upon  the  scene  had 
no  doubt  strained  her  slight  remaining  pa 
tience  almost  to  its  limits. 

Thinking  that,  perhaps,  a  little  solitary  re 
flection  might  do  her  no  harm  in  her  present 
temper,  and  also  because  he  wished  to  learn 
more  of  Kharkof 's  plans,  he  decided  to  leave 
her  for  a  short  time. 

"I  am  afraid,  Countess,"  said  he,  "that 

fyou  are  getting  a  bit  bored  with  me.     Do 

you  mind  if  I  leave  you  for  a  few  minutes? 

I  want  to  find  out,  if  I  can,  what  the  Prince 

is  up  to." 

The  Countess  did  not  reply. 

"  I  will  be  back  immediately,"  said  Deane. 
"  Please  wait  here." 

He  left  the  waiting-room  and,  crossing  the 
.86 


The  Countess  Diane 

square,  entered  the  hotel.  Passing  through 
to  the  cafe,  he  saw  the  car  in  the  court  and 
the  Prince  standing  beside  it  talking  to  a 
man  who  appeared  to  be  the  chef  de  garage. 
Their  conversation  reached  the  artist  quite 
plainly  through  the  open  windows. 

'*  Replenish  the  essence  and  lubricating 
oil,"  said  the  Prince,  "and  clean  the  carbu 
reter.  That  is  all.  Do  not  touch  the  motor." 


"I  am  going  to  San  Malo  on  the  next 
train  and  will  return  for  the  car  to-morrow 
or  the  day  after,  but  it  is  possible  that  I  may 
send  some  one  for  the  car  at  any  hour.  See 
to  it  that  there  is  no  delay." 


ff  Bon.  Here  are  two  louis  for  you.  Take 
care  that  you  do  not  go  off  and  leave  the 
garage  locked  up  !  " 

"  Merci,  merci,  M'sieu.  It  shall  be  as  you 
command." 

The  Prince  started  to  leave  the  yard,  when 
he  caught  sight  of  Deane.  He  turned  to  the 
chef  de  garage. 

ff  Dites  done!  The  valves  of  my  pump 
are  no  good.  Get  a  new  one  and  leave  it 

87 


The  Countess  Diane 

in  the  car."  He  glanced  at  Deane.  "  That 
was  very  good  of  you  last  night.  We  were 
in  a  bad  place  to  get  a  panne,  and  at  a  bad 
time  of  the  night.  It  was  cursedly  annoy 
ing."  His  face  grew  savage  and  he  turned 
upon  his  heel  and  entered  the  cafe. 

Deane  returned  to  the  Countess,  whom  he 
found  in  a  condition  of  ill-restrained  excite 
ment.  Her  pique  was  quite  forgotten  in  the 
interest  of  a  fresh  discovery. 

"  There  is  a  spy  watching  the  railroad  sta 
tion  ! "  she  whispered  breathlessly.  "  He  has 
been  loitering  about  the  platform,  and  when 
the  ticket-seller  arrived  I  overheard  him 
questioning  him  about  the  people  to  whom  he 
had  sold  tickets  this  morning." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"  I  think  that  he  is  on  the  front  platform 
—*h-h-h!" 

The  door  upon  the  other  side  of  the  room 
opened  softly  and  there  entered  a  tall,  sallow 
man  who,  from  his  dress  and  general  ap 
pearance,  suggested  the  provincial  advocate. 
Passengers  for  the  train  were  beginning  to 
arrive,  and  at  these  he  glanced  quickly  and 
keenly.  His  eyes  lingered  for  an  instant 

88 


The  Countess  Diane 

upon  the  artist  and  his  companion,  then, 
with  an  indifferent  glance  at  the  Countess, 
he  turned  and  went  out  again. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Deane.  "  That  fel 
low  is  a  spy — but  I  do  not  think  that  he 
suspects  anything." 

"  What  did  you  learn? "  asked  the  Count 
ess. 

"  The  Prince  is  going  to  San  Malo  by  our 
train.  What  his  plans  are  beyond  that  I  do 
not  know.  Very  possible  he  thinks  that  you 
may  get  aboard  the  train  at  some  way-sta 
tion  along  the  route.  As  the  case  stands,  I 
am  afraid  that  prudence  will  compel  us  to 
get  to  Dinan  in  some  other  way.  The  dan 
ger  of  his  recognizing  you  is  too  great." 

"But  what  other  way  is  there? "  asked  the 
Countess. 

"  I  have  been  turning  the  situation  in  my 
mind,"  said  the  artist  calmly,  "and  I  have 
about  decided  to  borrow  the  Prince's  car." 

The  Countess  stared,  then  her  pretty  face 
grew  red  wfth  anger. 

'Your  little  joke  does  not  amuse  me," 
said  she  coldly. 

"Why  will  you  persist  in  doing  me  in- 


The  Countess  Diane 

justice?"  asked  Deane.  "I  am  quite  in 
earnest.  The  Prince  has  left  the  car  in  the 
garage  across  the  street,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  that  I  will  have  no  difficulty  in  obtain 
ing  the  use  of  it  for  two  or  three  hours.  I 
can  take  you  to  Dinan  and  get  back  before 
he  arrives  at  San  Malo! " 

The  blue  eyes  of  the  Countess  opened  very 
wide;  she  surveyed  the  young  man  with  an 
admiration  which  was  not  unmixed  with  awe. 

"  For  simple,  unembarrassed  impudence," 
said  she,  "yqurare  quite  a  revelation  to  all 
European  principles.  But  why  don't  you 
ask  him  to  have  his  lamp  repaired  before 
you  borrow  his  car?  " 

"It  would  take  too  long,  and  we  simply 
must  get  to  Dinan  this  evening.  However, 
I  will  insist  upon  his  supplying  us  with  a  new 
pump.  It  would  be  very  annoying  to  have 
to  stop  upon  the  road." 

The  Countess  stared  at  her  companion, 
then,  dropping  her  face  into  her  hands, 
fought  hard  to  smother  her  laughter;  but 
to  Deane  the  situation  was  far  too  precarious 
for  mirth. 

"We  had  better  remain  here  until  the 
90 


The  Countess  Diane 

train  goes,"  said  he,  "  and  make  sure  that  the 
Prince  goes  with  it.  Then  I  will  go  over 
and  see  what  I  can  do  about  the  car." 

The  Countess  did  not  reply.  Instead,  she 
let  her  eyes  rest  thoughtfully  upon  the  clean- 
cut,  thoroughbred  features  of  the  artist. 
Suddenly  he  glanced  up,  his  clear,  gray  eyes 
looked  into  the  girl's,  and  they  both  laughed. 
Then  the  color  swept  into  the  Countess'  face 
and  her  eyes  softened  wonderfully.  She 
turned  slightly  away,  and,  resting  her  elbow 
on  the  window-sill,  looked  out  through  the 
grimy  pane. 

Presently,  Deane,  who  was  studying  the 
charming  profile  presented  to  him  with  a 
deep  interest  which  was  not  purely  profes 
sional,  saw  the  color  fade  swiftly  from  the 
girl's  cheek. 

"He's  coming!"  she  whispered.  Deane 
glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  It  is  almost  train-time,"  said  he. 

The  Prince  entered,  stepped  to  the  ticket- 
booth  and  purchased  a  ticket,  then  went  out 
upon  the  front  platform,  where  he  was 
joined  by  the  sallow  gentleman  of  legal  ap 
pearance,  to  whom  he  appeared  to  be  giving 

91 


The  Countess  Diane 

the  most  minute  instructions.  They  were 
still  talking  when  the  train  clamored  in.  The 
passengers  scrambled  aboard,  the  Prince 
among  them,  the  guards  squawked  lipon 
their  childish  trumpets,  the  locomotive 
squealed,  the  chef  de  garage  tooted  upon 
his  little  horn,  and  the  train  rattled  off 
again. 

"  Now,"  said  Deane,  "  as  soon  as  quiet  is 
restored  I  will  start  upon  my  criminal  un 
dertaking." 

"How  do  you  propose  to  go  about  it?" 
asked  the  Countess. 

"  I  shall  tell  the  man  in  charge  that  at  the 
last  moment  my  friend,  the  Prince,  with 
whom  he  saw  me  talking,  desired  me  to  meet 
him  with  the  car  at  Dinan.  Then  this  even 
ing,  when  I  return  the  car,  I  will  tell  him  I 
must  have  misunderstood  the  Prince,  that 
there  was  some  mistake,  and  caution  him 
that  the  less  said  about  it  the  better." 

The  Countess  sighed.  "  I  am  sure,"  said 
she,  "that  you  are  a  young  man  who  de 
serves  to  succeed ! " 

Again  their  eyes  met  and  again  they  both 
laughed,  but  this  time  the  blood  flared  up  in 

92 


The  Countess  Diane 

the  face  of  the  artist  also.     The  Countess 
sighed. 

"  While  you  were  in  the  hotel,"  said  she, 
"  a  very  nice-looking  man,  either  an  English 
man  or  an  American,  came  in  and  studied  the 
train  schedule.  He  looked  at  me  so  hard 
that  I  thought  he  was  going  to  speak  to  me. 
I  would  not  have  minded  much  if  he  had,  be 
cause  I  was  very  lonely  and  he  looked  so 
very  well-bred  and  agreeable." 

"  I  plainly  see,"  said  Deane  coldly,  "  that 
it  is  not  safe  to  leave  you  alone." 

"Not  if  you  have  been  cross  with  me," 
said  the  Countess  plaintively. 

"  If  I  am  ever  cross  with  you,"  replied  the 
artist  gently,  "  it  is  because  I  have  your  wel 
fare  so  much  at  heart." 

"Why?"  asked  the  Countess  demurely. 

"  Because  I — eh — you  are  very — that  is, 
you  see,  you  are  under  my  protection — 
and " 

The  Countess'  eyes  softened.  "You  are 
good!"  she  exclaimed,  impulsively  holding 
out  both  hands  to  the  young  man.  "  Thank 
you!" 

Deane,  quite  overcome,  took  the  two  small 
93 


The  Countess  Diane 

hands  in  his  and  looked  into  the  girl's  eyes. 
Exactly  what  the  situation  might  have  de 
veloped  it  is  impossible  to  say,  for  at  that 
moment  the  door  of  the  room  was  flung  open 
and  a  tall  young  man  entered  hurriedly. 

At  sight  of  the  tableau  presented  he 
stopped  short,  his  eyes  opened  very  wide  and 
his  lean,  square  jaw  dropped  with  amaze 
ment. 

"Upon  my  word!"  he  cried  in  harsh 
American.  "  So  this  is  the  way  you  spend 
your  time  after  inciting  me  to  assault  and 
battery  and  burning  up  my  money  in  tele 
grams  trying  to  find  your  corpse!" 

"  Sam! "  cried  the  startled  Mr.  Deane,  still 
clinging  to  the  hands  of  the  Countess. 

"Philandering  as  usual,"  continued  Mr. 
Smalley  cuttingly.  "  If  it  isn't  a  Countess 
it's  a  pretty  peasant,  and  if  it's  neither  it's 
some  one  else.  Come,  kiss  the  girl  and  give 
her  ten  sous  and  let's  get  out  of  this.  I've 
had  the  d dest  night!  And  all  on  ac 
count  of  you,  confound  you !  You  and  your 
Countess •" 

"Sam!  Shut  up!"  cried  the  horrified  ar 
tist.  "  Don't  you  see— 

94 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  No,  I  don't! "  cut  in  Mr.  Smalley  irately; 
"  and  if  I'd  known  that  your  grande  passion 
at  first  sight  was  going  to  be  so  easily  short- 
circuited  by  a  pretty  ankle  and  a  pair  of 
rosy  cheeks— 

"Sam!      You    everlasting    chump 

The  agonized  artist  made  so  wild  a  rush  at 
his  angry  friend  that  Mr.  Smalley  stepped 
quickly  aside.  The  next  instant  Deane  had 
grabbed  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder.  The 
Countess  had  risen  to  her  feet  as  majestically 
as  an  ill-fitting  bodice  and  a  very  short  skirt 
would  permit  and  wras  regarding  the  two 
young  men  with  her  blue  eyes  almost  black 
from  anger.  Her  face  was  quite  pale  and 
her  lower  lip  was  clenched  in  her  white,  even 
teeth. 

"Can't  you  see?"  cried  the  wretched  Mr. 
Deane.  "  This  is  the  Countess  Roubanoff ! " 

"It  is?"  cried  the  startled  Mr.  Smalley. 
"  Well,  upon  my  word ! " 

For  an  instant  he  surveyed  the  angry 
beauty  in  mingled  wonder  and  amusement. 
Then,  with  some  effort,  he  controlled  a  vio 
lent  inward  emotion  and  bowed. 

"  Countess  Roubanoff,"  said  Deane,  des- 
95 


The  Countess  Diane 

perately,  "  permit  me  to  present  Mr.  Smal- 
ley — eh — your — eh,  Cousin  Sam!" 

The  faintest  quiver  appeared  upon  the 
corners  of  the  girl's  mouth.  She  nodded 
slightly  in  response  to  the  respectful  bow  of 
Mr.  Smalley. 

"Mr.— eh— Mr. "      She    turned    in 

some  vexation  to  the  artist.    "  What  is  your 
name,  please  ? " 

"My  name!"  cried  Deane,  by  this  time 
hopelessly  demoralized.  "Oh  —  eh  —  my 

name "      He  looked   helplessly   at   his 

friend.    "  What  the  deuce  is  my  name,  Sam 
— oh,  Deane,  of  course— 

"Mr.  Deane,"  continued  the  Countess, 
biting  her  lip,  "  tells  me  that  we  are  related." 

"Ah — yes,"  replied  Mr.  Smalley  placidly. 
"  My  mother's — ah — great-uncle,  I  believe  it 
was,  was  your — ah — maternal  grandmother's 
• — ah — sister,  or  wife,  or — something." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  said  the  Countess  in  a  creamy 
voice.  "  That  was  why  you  were  both  so  de 
termined  to  rescue  me." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Smalley  gravely. 
"One  must  stand  by  one's  relatives,  you 
know." 

96 


The  Countess  Diane 

The  two  looked  at  each  other;  then  the 
lips  of  both  began  to  twitch.  Then,  as  if 
moved  by  the  same  impulse,  they  turned  and 
regarded  the  unhappy  Deane,  who  was  look 
ing  from  one  to  the  other  in  a  crumbled  sort 
of  way,  and  his  lips  began  to  twitch  also.  All 
three  faces  grew  very  red  and,  suddenly,  a 
shout  of  laughter  from  the  men  and  a  clear, 
rollicking  peal  from  the  Countess  burst  out 
spontaneously,  and  the  situation  was  at  once 
relieved. 

"We  looked  for  you  very  eagerly  last 
night,  Cousin  Sam,"  said  the  Countess, 
touching  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 

"I  was  nearly  frantic!"  said  Smalley. 
"  There  was  no  difficulty  with  the  chauffeur, 
poor  chap,  but  in  my  excitement  I  started 
off  on  third  and  snapped  my  crank-shaft 
like  a  pipe-stem.  There  I  was — en  panne! 
By  and  by  a  chap  came  along  and  took  me 
in  tow.  I  stopped  at  the  first  inn  we  struck, 
a  villainous  place  on  the  edge  of  the  town, 
and  there  the  car  is  now,  with  Serge  in 
charge.  He  has  decided  to  quit  the  service 
of  the  Prince  and  enter  mine.  I  shall  sack 
that  amorous  Cockney!"  His  keen  eyes 

97 


The  Countess  Diane 

rested  curiously  upon  the  Countess.  "  How 
did  you  two  manage? " 

They  quickly  told  the  story  of  their  adven 
tures,  at  which  Smalley  laughed. 

"  I  should  have  seen  that  you  were  not  a 
peasant  at  once,"  he  said  to  the  Countess, 
"if  I  had  not  been  so  vexed.  As  it  was,  I 
simply  thought  that  Archie  was  up  to  his 
old  tricks — eh " 

"His  old  what?"  asked  the  Countess 
quickly. 

"Oh — eh — you  know,  Countess,  artists 
have  a  way,"  began  Mr.  Smalley,  avoiding 
the  menacing  eye  of  his  friend,  "  of  going 
about  with  one  eye^n  the  alert  for  a  new 
and  interesting  type  of — eh — face,  and 
when  they  find  one  which  interests  them  they 
are  apt  to  engage  its  owner  in — eh — conver 
sation,  sometimes  playing  upon  the  emotions 
for  the  sake  of  developing  new  expressions, 
I  presume " 

"  Oh,  rot! "  growled  the  infuriated  Deane. 

The  Countess  glanced  at  him  as  one 
might  at  some  new  and  interesting  rep 
tile. 

'Yes?"  she  said,  turning  expectantly  to 
98 


The  Countess  Diane 

Mr.  Smalley.  "  How  very  interesting.  And 
what  then — Cousin  Sam?" 

"  If  we  are  going  to  get  to  Dinan  to 
night,"  growled  Deane,  "we  had  better 
start!" 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Smalley,  utterly  dis 
regarding  the  interruption,  "  they  take  men 
tal  notes." 

"  What  kind  of  notes? "  asked  the  Count 
ess. 

"  Mental  notes  they  call  them." 

"But  isn't  that  very  difficult?"  asked  the 
girl.  "  Fancy,  mental  notes ! " 

"  It  is  not  difficult  for  most  people,"  an 
swered  Smalley,  "  but  Deane  has  often  said 
that  it  was  for  him.  That  is  probably  why 
he  requires  so  much  practice." 

Deane  rose  to  his  feet.  "  Since  there  is  no 
assistance  to  be  looked  for  from  your  Cousin 
Sam,  Countess,"  he  said,  laying  infinite  sar 
casm  upon  the  word  "  cousin,"  "  I  will  reluc 
tantly  leave  you  in  his  care  while  I  see 
what  can  be  done  in  regard  to  transporta 
tion." 

"  Why  not  borrow  the  Prince's  car? "  sug 
gested  Mr.  Smalley.  "  It  is  over  in  the 

99 


The  Countess  Diane 

garage — and  I  have  a  man  who  thoroughly 
understands  it! "  he  added  with  a  grin. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  was  about  to 
do!"  said  Deane.  "We  had  foolishly 
counted  upon  you,  but  since  you  have  gone 
and  smashed  your  car  just  at  the  critical  mo 
ment  there  is  nothing  else  to  do.  I  must  say, 
I  don't  see  how  you  managed  it!  Any  be 
ginner  would  know  better  than  that !  A  nice 
mess  you've  got  your  cousin  in! " 

The  lean,  hard  face  of  Mr.  Smalley  grew 
glum.  Like  a  good  many  young  men  of 
wealth  and  no  occupation,  he  took  the  seri 
ous  things  of  life  lightly  and  his  pastimes 
very  seriously.  Of  late  years  the  one  thing 
upon  which  he  had  come  to  pride  himself 
was  his  complete  mastery  of  motor-cars.  To 
add  to  his  chagrin,  his  New  England  con 
science  told  him  that  the  rebuke  was  entirely 
deserved. 

"  There  must  have  been  a  flaw  in  that " 

he  began. 

"There  was  a  flaw  in  your  judgment!" 
said  Deane  bitterly.  "  Fancy  trying  to  start 
a  big  car " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Mr.  Smalley  vexedly,  "  I 
100 


The  Countess  Diane 

acknowledge  that  I  made  a  slight  error  in 
judgment, •" 

"A  slight  error!"  echoed  his  friend,  who 
was  still  smarting  from  the  witticisms  of  the 
other.  "  Oh,  puff !  What  do  you  call  slight  ? 
A  crank-shaft?  What  do  you  expect  to  run 
your  car  by,  anyhow?  Moral  suasion,  or 
animal  magnetism,  or " 

"  Oh,  chuck  it! "  said  Mr.  Smalley  wearily. 
"I've  gone  and  done  it — and  know  it,  and 
now  I  am  ready  to  make  good.  What  do 
you  want  me  to  do?  Wheel  my  cousin  to 
Dinan  in  a  push-cart?" 

"We  have  wasted  time  enough  in  flip 
pancy,"  said  Deane,  glancing  at  the  Count 
ess,  who  was  looking  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  young  men  with  very  large,  round, 
blue  eyes.  "Do  you  remember  that  sharp 
turn  in  the  road  wrhere  it  goes  up  that  steep 
little  grade  just  before  you  come  into  the 
town?" 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Smalley.  "  We  had 
to  get  out  and  push  there.  My  car  is  stabled 
just  this  side  of  that  place." 

"  Then  take  the  Countess  with  you,"  said 
Deane,  "  and  meet  me  there  in  about  half  an 
101 


The  Countess  Diane 

hour.  You  can  stop  on  the  way  and  get  the 
Prince's  chauffeur.  We  don't  want  to  snap 
any  more  crank-shafts? " 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  you  can  get 
the  Prince's  car ? "  began  Mr.  Smalley. 

"  Oh,  puff!  You  do  your  part  and  I  will 
do  mine.  You  have  failed  me  once,  and  by 
blue,  if  you  ever  fail  me  again  it  will  be  the 
last  time  that  I  ever  take  the  trail  with  you 
after  any  more  kidnaped  Countesses,"  said 
Mr.  Deane  impressively.  He  turned  to  the 
girl. 

"  I  hate  to  turn  you  over  to  any  such  irre 
sponsible  person,  Countess,"  said  he;  "but 
needs  must  when  your  Cousin  Sam  drives! " 
He  turned  to  his  friend.  "  Don't  you  leave 
her  for  a  minute!  for  a  second!  Do  you  un 
derstand?  Now  let's  go — we've  wasted  time 
enough  already." 

Nodding  to  his  thoroughly  subjugated  lis 
teners,  Mr.  Deane  went  out  of  the  door  and 
crossed  the  square  to  the  hotel,  where  he 
seated  himself  at  a  table  on  the  terrace. 

"  Send  me  the  chef  de  garage,"  he  said 
to  the  garpon  as  the  latter  was  pocketing  a 
very  lavish  tip. 

102 


KIIAKKOF 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Oui}  M'sieu"  The  waiter  disappeared 
and  returned  in  a  few  moments  with  the 
somewhat  reluctant  functionary,  -who  wore 
an  expression  which  seemed  to  say  that 
money  might  pay  for  this  concession,  but 
that  it  would  take  considerable. 

Deane  glanced  at  him  indifferently,  then 
slowly  and  absently  finished  his  drink. 

"Via,  Wsleii—c'est  M'sieu'  le  chef  de 
garage"  said  the  garcon  nervously. 

"Eh  bien"  replied  Deane  impatiently. 
" That  is  all — you  may  go! " 

The  waiter  vanished.  Deane  glanced  lan 
guidly  at  the  man  in  front  of  him. 

"M'sieu'  desires  something?"  asked  the 
fellow  ominouslyc 

"If  I  had  not,"  said  Deane  curtly,  "do 
you  think  that  I  would  have  gone  to  the 
trouble  of  sending  for  you?  Monsieur  le 
Prince"  he  continued  irritably,  "  at  the  very 
last  moment  called  to  me  from  the  train  to 
take  his  cursed  car  to  Dinan,  or  San  Malo, 
or  some  place — I  do  not  know! "  He  shook 
the  hand  holding  the  cigarette  irritably. 
"Get  it  ready!" 

The  man's  whole  demeanor  underwent  a 

103 


The  Countess  Diane 

change.  He  appeared  to  draw  in  at  the 
corners  like  a  turtle. 

"But,  Monsieur " 

"  But  what? "  said  Deane  sharply.  "  Is  not 
the  car  ready  to  start  at  once?  Ah,  yes — 
there  was  a  pump  or  something  to  be  bought. 
Never  mind.  Take  one  out  of  any  car  and 
say  that  it  was  stolen.  This  will  pay  for 
it."  He  tossed  the  man  a  note  for  fifty 
francs.  "  If  there  is  anything  left  it  is  for 
you,  and  this" — he  handed  another  note  of 
the  same  denomination — "  is  for  you  if  you 
bring  the  car  around  within  ten  minutes!" 

"Herd,  M'sieu — the  car  will  be  here!" 
The  man  hurried  off  effervescing  acknowl 
edgments,  leaving  Mr.  Deane  to  reflect 
upon  the  singularly  direct  relations  between 
money,  in  the  abstract  and  concrete,  and  any 
thing  belonging  or  appertaining  to  the  au 
tomobile. 

At  the  end  of  the  allotted  ten  minutes 
Deane  descended  to  the  yard  of  the  garage, 
where  he  found  the  keeper  in  the  act  of 
"  cranking  up."  Being  perfectly  acquainted 
with  this  type  of  car,  the  artist  made  a  suc 
cessful  start,  and,  picking  his  way  carefully 

104 


The  Countess  Diane 

tnrough  the  narrow  street,  quickly  arrived 
at  the  place  of  rendezvous.  There  was  no 
one  in  sight,  but  as  he  drew  up  and  horned 
a  man  whom  he  at  once  recognized  as  the 
former  chauffeur  of  the  Prince  came  out 
from  behind  the  hedge  and  saluted  him. 

"Where  is  M.  Smalley?"  demanded 
Deane. 

"  He  told  me  to  wait  here  and  tell  you  that 
he  would  come  at  once,  Monsieur.  He  wished 
to  examine  something  about  the  car." 

"  Imbecile! "  muttered  Deane,  twisting  his 
mustache  nervously.  Even  while  on  his 
way  from  the  hotel  he  had  been  conscious  of 
an  odd  and  disagreeable  sense  of  impend 
ing  ill  which  was  by  no  means  allayed  by 
the  absence  of  Mr.  Smalley  and  the 
Countess. 

For  five  minutes  he  sat  in  the  car,  his 
anxiety  rapidly  increasing.  At  last  it  be 
came  insupportable,  and  he  was  about  to  re 
turn  on  foot  and  investigate  the  cause  of 
the  delay  when  the  chauffeur  observed: 

"  Monsieur  is  coming  now.  He  is  run 
ning." 

A  thrill  of  horror  swept  through  the  art- 

105 


The  Countess  Diane 

1st.  He  leaned  out  and  looked  back  in  the 
direction  from  which  he  had  come,  when,  to 
his  sickening  dismay,  he  beheld  Mr.  Smalley 
tearing  down  the  road.  In  a  second  he  had 
leaped  out  of  the  car  and  dashed  to  meet 
him. 

"Where  is  she?"  gasped  Deane.  Smal- 
ley's  tanned  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes 
bulging  from  fright  and  exertion. 

"Where  is  she?"  cried  Deane. 

"I  don't  know!"  panted  the  wretched 
Mr.  Smalley.  "She's  gone!" 

"Gone!  Gone  where?  Gone  how?  Who 
took  her?"  The  voice  of  the  artist  was  so 
savage  that  his  friend  shrunk  away  from 
him. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I'd  be  here  if  I  knew, 
Archie?"  cried  the  agonized  Mr.  Smalley. 

"But  you  must  know!"  snarled  Deane. 
*  You  didn't  leave  her,  did  you? " 

Mr.  Smalley  stepped  back,  startled  at  the 
ferocity  in  the  face  of  his  usually  tranquil 
friend. 

"  I — I  did  leave  her  for — for  a  few  min 
utes,  Archie,"  he  wailed.  "I — I  wanted  to 

see  something  about  the  car " 

106 


The  Countess  Diane 

The  frantic  artist  wasted  at  least  twenty 
seconds  of  priceless  time  in  a  frenzied  ob 
jurgation  of  Mr.  Smalley,  his  car,  his  faith 
lessness  of  character  and  neglect  of  trust, 
after  which,  telling  the  chauffeur  to  wait 
with  the  automobile,  he  seized  his  jaded 
friend  by  the  shoulder  and  pushed  him  in 
the  direction  whence  he  had  come. 

"Show  me  where  you  left  her!"  he 
growled. 

"  She  was  standing  in  the  court  beside  the 
back  door  of  the  inn,"  panted  Mr.  Smalley 
as  they  hastened  along.  "  I  was  scarcely  out 
of  earshot " 

"Were  you  working  at  the  car?"  de 
manded  Deane,  glancing  at  the  grimy  hands 
of  his  false  friend. 

"A  little  —  I  might  have  been  ham 
mering,"  acknowledged  Smalley,  sheep 
ishly.  "But  I  was  not  gone  over  ten  min- 
utes- 

"  Ten  minutes — oh,  my  soul ! "  The  art 
ist  groaned  in  anguish. 

"  And  when  I  came  back  she  was  gone — 
vanished  into  thin  air.  Of  course  I  tore 

around  asking  every  one  I  saw " 

107 


The  Countess  Diane 

"The  worst  thing  you  could  have  done. 
Here  we  are!" 

They  had  reached  the  inn,  a  rambling, 
slovenly  old  road-house,  which  looked  as  if 
it  might  have  been  a  very  pretentious  house 
in _  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
The  walls  were  very  thick,  with  long  embra 
sures  for  archers  or  musketeers,  and  doors 
and  gates  of  both  house  and  yard  were 
grilled.  In  the  rear  was  a  roughly-paved 
court,  flanked  by  dirty  outhouses  and  sur 
rounded  by  a  massive  wall. 

"Dismal  hole!"  said  Smalley;  "but  it 
looked  good  to  us  about  three  o'clock  this 
morning  when  we  reached  here  in  tow  of  a 
cabbage-cart.  The  car  is  in  that  stable." 

Deane  looked  about  him  narrowly.  "  And 
the  Countess,"  said  he,  "is  in  that  house!" 
He  pointed  to  the  inn. 

"What  makes  you  think  so? — Hang  it, 
I  wish  that  brute  would  stop  blowing  that 
beastly  horn." 

From  the  kitchen  of  the  inn  there  had 
risen  the  wailing,  lugubrious  notes  of  a 
French  cor  de  chasse,  a  sweet  and  melancholy 
instrument  when  heard  at  a  distance  and 

108 


The  Countess  Diane 

played  by  a  skillful  performer,  but  a  veri 
table  instrument  of  torture  in  the  hands  of  a 
novice.  In  the  present  case  the  notes  issuing 
from  the  horn  suggested  the  trumpeting  of 
a  she-elephant  deprived  of  her  calf.  To  add 
to  the  harrowing  result,  the  mournful  strains 
had  stirred  the  soul  of  every  dog  within  its 
reach,  and  the  animals  were  voicing  their 
emotions  from  all  about  the  place. 

In  the  irritated  condition  of  his  nerves  the 
tumult  was  maddening  to  Mr.  Smalley.  He 
started  for  the  kitchen  door. 

"  If  gold  cannot  silence  that  row,"  said  he, 
"  force  will  have  to! " 

"Wait,"  said  Deane  sharply.  "Perhaps 
the  fellow  is  not  making  that  noise  entirely 
for  fun." 

"What  is  that?"  cried  Mr.  Smalley,  his 
face  growing  suddenly  tense.  'You  mean 
that  you  think — that— 

"  Listen — what  is  that? " 

"What?" 

'  That  cry — or — scream — or  howl " 

Both  men  listened  intently.  The  horn  was 
clamoring,  dogs  howling,  and  from  some 
where  in  the  front  of  the  inn  came  a  clamor 
109 


The  Countess  Diane 

of  men's  voices.  Yet,  woven  into  the  riot 
there  was  an  alien  note  which,  as  it  reached 
the  ears  of  the  artist,  turned  his  face  a  shade 
paler  and  produced  a  peculiar  tingling  sen 
sation  at  the  nape  of  his  neck.  He  glanced 
inquiringly  at  his  companion.  Mr.  Smal- 
ley's  face  was  also  a  trifle  paler  than  be 
fore. 

"  I  heard  it  then,"  said  he,  moistening  his 
lips.  "  It  may  be  a  dog,  but  it  sounded  like 
—like " 

"  A  woman ! "  said  Deane.    "  Listen ! " 

They  listened  intently.  The  horn  re 
doubled  its  clamor,  the  curs  likewise,  but  the 
sound  which  had  so  stirred  their  pulses  was 
not  repeated. 

"Where  was  the  girl  standing  when  you 
left  her?"  asked  Deane. 

"Just  a  little  this  side  of  that  kitchen 
door." 

Deane's  eyes  searched  every  detail  of  the 
inclosure.  The  rough  cobbles  with  which  the 
court  was  paved  presented  nothing  for  ex 
amination  ;  the  drab  wall  was  equally  inscrut 
able,  and  looking  at  the  black,  narrow  win 
dows  at  the  rear  of  the  inn  was  like  peering 
no 


The  Countess  Diane 

into  so  many  rat-holes.  All  conjecture 
seemed  to  centre  upon  the  low,  back  door 
which  apparently  opened  into  the  kitchen, 
whence  still  proceeded  the  diabolical  clamor- 
ings  of  the  horn.  Deane  walked  toward  it 
slowly,  observing  as  he  did  so  that  the  case 
ment  had  been  newly  whitewashed.  As  his 
eyes  wandered  searchingly  to  the  windows 
above,  Smalley,  who  was  standing  by  his 
side,  studying  the  door,  gripped  him  fiercely 
by  the  arm. 

"Look!"  said  he,  pointing  at  the  rough 
wooden  casement,  which  was  fitted  clumsily 
into  the  heavy,  stone  aperture  of  the  door. 

Deane  looked,  and  his  heart  gave  a  tre 
mendous  bound,  for  there,  scarring  the  fresh 
whitewash  of  the  woodwork,  were  the  prints 
of  four  small  fingers  which  had  obviously 
been  wrenched  away  in  a  vain  effort  to  cling 
to  the  rim  of  the  doorway. 

The  two  men  exchanged  glances.  The 
bony,  angular  features  of  Mr.  Smalley  were 
set  with  the  grimness  of  a  death-mask,  while 
Deane's  more  mobile  face  was  quivering 
with  a  savage  impatience.  His  clear,  gray 
eyes  shone  as  green  as  two  emeralds. 
in 


The  Countess  Diane 

"That  settles  it!"  said  he.  "Where's 
your  cursed  car? " 

"My  car •" 

"  Yes.  Have  you  got  a  couple  of  good, 
heavy  spanners?" 

The  light  of  comprehension  blazed  up  in 
the  face  of  Mr.  Smalley. 

"Oho!  "said  he.  "  That's  the  game.  Yes 
— I've  got  just  what  we  need.  Come  on! " 

They  quickly  crossed  the  court,  and  Smal 
ley,  producing  a  large  key,  unlocked  the  sta 
ble  door.  In  a  grim  silence  the  two  men 
walked  to  the  inert  car  and  selected  from  the 
tool-kit  the  two  big  steel  spanners.  Not 
waiting  to  lock  the  door  again,  they  recrossed 
the  court,  and  Deane,  stepping  to  the  kitchen 
door,  rapped  sharply  with  the  butt  of  his 
weapon. 


113 


IV 


HE  blatant  clamoring  of  the  horn 
ceased  suddenly,  and  it  seemed  to 
the  men  listening  outside  as  if  the 
very  abruptness  of  its  stop  was 
the  signal  for  every  dog  in  the  neighbor 
hood  to  carry  on  the  melancholy  refrain.  A 
deep-throated  roar  from  the  kitchen  of  the 
inn  led  the  chorus,  and  this  was  followed  by 
a  sniffing  and  growling  within  which  caused 
Deane  to  tighten  his  grip  on  the  spanner. 

All  at  once  the  horn  recommenced  with 
greater  violence  and  wilder  variations. 
Deane  raised  his  spanner  and  thundered  on 
the  door,  as  if  to  beat  it  in. 

"  Ouvrez!    Ouvrez  la!"  he  bellowed. 
Again  the  horn  ceased.    There  was  a  scuf 
fling  about  inside  and  the  muttering  of  sev 
eral  voices,  followed  by  the  clattering  of 
sabots  and  the  clinking  of  glass. 

"Smash  it  in!"  muttered  Mr.  Smalley. 
Deane  was  about  to  comply  when  there  was 
the  sound  of  a  bolt  shot  and  a  rattle  of  the 
us 


The  Countess  Diane 

latch.  The  door  opened  about  a  foot  and  a 
villainous  face  beneath  a  shock  head  of  hair 
appeared  in  the  aperture. 

"  Dites  done!  Is  this  the  way  you  keep 
your  inn — locking  out  your  patrons?"  de 
manded  Deane  angrily.  "  Open  the  door." 

The  man,  a  heavy,  loutish  fellow,  smooth- 
shaven,  like  all  Breton  peasants,  and  with  the 
flat,  Bigouden  features  suggestive  of  his 
strange,  Mongolian  ancestry,  muttered  some 
excuse  and  threw  open  the  door.  The  dog,  a 
big,  woolly,  bobtailed  sheep-herder,  stood  at 
his  heels  growling  for  a  moment,  then  made 
a  dash  for  the  yard,  where  it  circled  with 
barking  howls. 

Across  the  room  two  men,  who  appeared 
to  be  ouvrierSj  were  sitting  on  a  bench  smok 
ing,  and  a  greasy-looking  individual  with  a 
hooked  nose  and  pointed  beard,  who,  from 
his  cap  and  apron,  was  evidently  the  chef, 
stirred  a  pot,  watching  the  two  from  the 
corners  of  his  eyes. 

As  Deane  with  Smalley  at  his  elbow  en 
tered  the  room  he  glanced  quickly  about,  tak 
ing  in  the  strategic  features  of  the  situation. 
Through  an  open  door  which  led  to  a  buvette 

114 


The  Countess  Diane 

in  the  front  of  the  inn  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  several  rough-looking  men,  apparently 
patrons  of  the  place.  One  or  two  glanced 
furtively  in  his  direction,  but  most  preserved 
a  sullen  and  watchful  silence. 

The  artist  stepped  to  this  door,  shut  and 
bolted  it.  He  turned  to  the  man  who  had  let 
them  in. 

"  Now,  my  good  fellow,"  said  he,  "  bring 
out  that  girl,  and  bring  her  out  quickly!" 

"What  is  that  you  say,  M'sieu'?"  an 
swered  the  fellow  sullenly. 

Deane  stepped  toward  him,  and  the  man, 
apparently  not  liking  the  expression  in  the 
eyes  of  the  artist,  backed  a  step  and  stood 
with  his  hulking  shoulders  against  the  wall. 

"Watch  for  a  kick,  Archie!"  said  Smal- 
ley,  in  English. 

"I  am  watching,"  said  Deane.  'You 
keep  tabs  on  the  rest  of  the  outfit.  I  don't 
intend  to  lose  any  time  over  this  job!" 

He  stepped  directly  in  front  of  the  inn 
keeper,  the  heavy  spanner  in  his  left  hand 
and  his  right  clenched. 

"I  say,"  he  repeated,  "that  you  are  to 
bring  out  that  peasant  girl  whom  you  have 
us 


The  Countess  Diane 

hidden  somewhere,  and  bring  her  out  at 
once!" 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  growled  the  fellow. 

"Look  out  for  trouble,  Sam!"  said 
Deane,  without  taking  his  watchful  eyes 
from  the  man.  "  Use  your  fists  if  you  can ; 
don't  use  the  spanner  unless  you  have  to." 

"  Go  ahead,  my  boy,"  replied  Mr.  Smal- 
ley  cheerfully.  "I  see  nothing  here  which 
will  need  the  spanner." 

"  For  the  last  time,"  said  Deane,  stepping 
directly  in  front  of  the  muttering  innkeeper, 
"  I  tell  you  to  get  the  girl.  Are  you  going  to 
doit?" 

"  I  do  not  know  of  what  you  are  talking," 
mumbled  the  man. 

The  quick  eye  of  the  artist  caught  the  sly 
shifting  of  the  fellow's  bulk  to  one  foot,  and 
warned  him  of  what  was  coming — la  savate 
— the  terrible,  lashing  kick,  which  is  less  a 
kick  than  a  swinging  blow  with  the  foot. 
But  the  man  was  standing  too  close  to  the 
wall  to  deliver  it,  and  as  he  moved  forward 
Deane  drove  the  end  of  the  spanner  into  the 
pit  of  his  stomach.  He  doubled  up  and 
116 


The  Countess  Diane 

dropped  to  the  floor,  for  the  moment  hors  de 
combat. 

"Look  out!"  cried  Mr.  Smalley,  and 
Deane  whirled  in  his  tracks  just  in  time  to 
dodge  a  heavy  iron  pot  hurled  at  him  by  the 
cook.  Before  the  fellow  could  lay  hand  on 
another  missile  Smalley  had  leaped  upon  him 
and  dealt  him  a  blow  between  the  eyes  which 
quite  destroyed  all  of  the  fight  that  was  left 
in  him.  Down  he  went  across  a  bench,  from 
which  he  slipped  and  rolled  upon  the  floor, 
holding  his  face  in  his  hands. 

The  two  men  who  had  been  sitting  upon 
the  settle  had  risen  to  their  feet,  but  either 
through  fear  or  bewilderment  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  scrimmage. 

"Do  you  two  belong  to  this  inn?"  de 
manded  Deane  of  one  of  them. 

"  No,  M'sieu'.  We  stopped  but  for  a  pipe 
and  a  glass  of  eau-de-vie." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here?  " 

"  We  have  but  just  arrived,  M'sieu'." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  a  peasant 
girl  who  has  been  made  a  prisoner  here? " 

The  two  faces  became  wooden  in  their 
utter  lack  of  expression. 
117 


The  Countess  Diane 

"No,  M'sieu',  we  do  not  know  anything 
about  it." 

Deane  stared  at  them  for  an  instant,  then 
pointed  to  the  door. 

"  Go,"  said  he,  "  if  you  do  not  want  to  be 
arrested!  The  gendarmes  are  coming." 

The  word  "gendarmes"  had  its  usual 
magical  effect.  The  two  men  shambled 
quickly  to  the  door  and  went  out.  Deane 
shut  the  door  behind  them  and  bolted  it. 

The  cook  was  still  sitting  on  the  floor, 
nursing  his  face.  The  innkeeper  had  clam 
bered  to  his  feet  again  and  was  standing 
half -crouched,  his  palms  against  the  wall, 
glaring  at  the  artist,  upon  whom  he  was  pre 
vented  from  rushing  only  by  the  heavy 
weapon  in  the  young  man's  hand. 

"Now  then,  animal,"  said  Deane,  "will 
you  take  us  to  the  girl,  or  do  you  want  a  lit 
tle  more  from  the  same  bottle?  Vite!" 

"  I  tell  you  that  there  is  no  girl  here.  I 
shall  make  you  pay  for  this !  You  have  come 
into  my  house  by  force  and  beaten  me 
and " 

"Shut    your    mouth!"    Deane    planted 
himself  squarely  in  front  of  the  man. 
11$ 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Sam,"  said  he,  without  looking  around, 
"  shove  the  poker  into  the  fire." 

Smalley  gasped.  "What?"  he  cried. 
"Thepoker- 

"  Yes,  the  poker !    Heat  it  up ! " 

"But  you  can't  torture  the  scoundrel, 
Archie— 

"  Will  you  heat  up  that  poker,  or  must  I  ? 
Do  you  realize  that  the  Countess  is  some 
where  in  this  dive?  You  don't  understand; 
the  Prince  has  nothing  to  do  with  this.  It  is 
a  different  matter.  This  devil  has  the  girl 
locked  up  somewhere,  but  he  is  afraid  to  ad 
mit  it  now,  because  it's  a  case  of  deportation 
or — the  guillotine!" 

Smalley's  face  blanched.  Without  a  word 
he  walked  to  the  hearth  and  shoved  the  poker 
into  the  coals. 

"If  either  of  you  move,"  said  Deane  in 
a  low  voice,  "we  will  beat  your  head  inl" 
He  glanced  at  the  cook,  whose  beady  eyes 
were  glittering  as  if  he  were  planning  some 
mischief.  "  Throw  that  cook  out,  Sam,"  he 
continued.  "We  don't  need  him,  and  he 
looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  make  a  break  of 
some  sort." 

119 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  But  suppose  he  gives  the  alarm?  " 

"  No  danger !  All  he  wants  is  to  get  away. 
Besides,  hot  iron  will  open  this  dog's  lips 
quicker  if  he  is  alone! " 

"But  you  don't  really  mean  to  use  that 
poker " 

Deane's  face  set  grimly.  "  I  mean  to  have 
the  Countess  out  of  here,  and  that  mighty 
quick!  My  Heavens,  man!"  he  cried  fren- 
ziedly,  "it  may  be  too  late  now.  Hurry; 
chuck  out  that  cursed  cook! " 

Smalley  stepped  to  the  door  and  threw  it 
open.  There  was  nobody  in  sight. 

fe  Allez!"  he  said  to  the  cook.  The  man 
stared,  then  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  scur 
ried  out. 

"  See  if  there  is  anybody  in  the  buvette" 
said  Deane.  His  friend  unbolted  the  door 
and  looked  into  the  room.  It  was  empty. 

'You  see?"  said  Deane.  "They  know 
that  there  has  been  some  funny  business,  and 
they  have  all  cleared  out.  I  will  bet  that 
there  is  not  a  soul  in  the  house.  Did  you  no 
tice  that  there  were  no  women  about  the 
place?  That  always  looks  significant.  Give 
me  the  poker!" 

120 


The  Countess  Diane 

Smalley  stepped  to  the  hearth  and  drew 
the  poker  from  where  he  had  laid  it  among 
the  coals.  As  he  did  so  the  innkeeper 
spoke. 

"  I  will  take  you  to  the  girl,  M'sieu',  if  you 
will  let  me  go  free,"  he  whined;  " if  you  will 
not  give  me  to  the  gendarmes." 

"I  will  promise  nothing,"  said  Deane, 
"  but  you  will  take  me  to  the  girl,  or  you  will 
never  leave  this  room  alive!"  He  reached 
for  the  poker. 

"Tiens!"  snarled  the  man,  shrinking 
back.  "  I  will  take  you  to  the  girl." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  In  the  cellar.  If  M'sieu'  will  light  the 
lamp " 

Smalley  took  a  lamp  from  the  table  and 
lighted  it. 

"Give  me  the  lamp,"  said  Deane,  "and 
you  walk  close  behind  this  brute,  and  if  he 
makes  a  shifty  move  smash  him.  Look  out 
for  tricks!"  He  turned  to  the  innkeeper. 
"Goon!  Lead  the  way!" 

The  man  walked  unsteadily  through  the 
buvette,  then,  opening  a  door,  led  them  down 
a  long,  dark  passageway.  Half-way  to  the 


121 


The  Countess  Diane 

other  end  a  flight  of  low,  stone  steps  de 
scended  between  two  walls  of  rough  ma 
sonry  and  at  the  bottom  stopped  before  a 
damp,  fungus-covered  door  which  was  ap 
parently  as  old  as  the  building  itself. 

Led  by  the  innkeeper,  they  descended  the 
steps.  Deane  observed,  without  remarking 
its  significance,  that  the  door  was  not  bolted, 
but  simply  on  the  latch.  The  innkeeper 
threw  it  open  and  they  looked  into  a  black 
void  which  reeked  of  mould  and  the  pungent 
odor  of  sour  wine. 

"  Listen! "  whispered  Smalley. 

From  somewhere  in  the  solid  darkness 
there  came  a  faint  sound  of  sobbing,  appar 
ently  from  behind  thick  walls. 

"  Countess ! "  called  Deane.  "  Countess — 
where  are  you?" 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence,  then  a 
muffled  voice  came  in  answer. 

"  Here — here — oh,  I  knew  that  you  would 
come!"  The  sobbing  broke  out  afresh,  but 
this  time  with  a  different  note. 

"  Go  on! "  cried  Deane  harshly.  "  Count 
ess,"  he  cried,  "are  you  hurt?" 

"No — no,  only  very  frightened!" 

122 


The  Countess  Diane 

"Hurry!"  said  Deane  to  the  innkeeper, 
who  was  stumbling  on  ahead. 

The  man  led  the  way  through  a  sort  of 
winding  lane  between  casks  and  barrels  and 
what  appeared  to  be  bins  containing  odds 
and  ends  of  ancient  rubbish.  By  the  dim 
light  of  the  lantern  it  seemed  as  if  the  refuse 
accumulated  in  the  cellar  dated  back  as  far 
as  the  building  above  it,  and  in  one  corner 
Deane  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  old  Sedan- 
chair  with  its  musty  trappings  still  attached. 
Suddenly  their  guide  said  something  in 
patois. 

"  Keep  quiet! "  said  Smalley,  who  was  di 
rectly  behind  the  man.  "  There  is  somebody 
over  behind  those  casks,  Archie,"  he  added 
in  English.  "  Look  out  for  a  rush." 

"If  that  fellow  makes  the  slightest  move," 
said  Deane  savagely,  "let  him  have  it  with 
the  spanner.  We  can't  afford  to  take  any 
chances  now!"  He  raised  his  voice :  "We 
are  coming,  Countess!" 

Presently  the  innkeeper  paused  in  front 
of  a  heavy  door  fastened  by  a  horizontal  bar 
in  big  iron  staples.  Deane  had  stepped  for 
ward  and  was  holding  the  lamp  above  his 

123 


The  Countess  Diane 

head,  reaching  with  the  other  hand  for  the 
bar,  when  some  object  came  flying  from  out 
the  darkness,  struck  the  lamp  from  his 
hand  and  knocked  it  into  a  heap  of  rubbish. 
It  flared  up  brilliantly  and  in  the  blaze 
Deane  saw  two  figures  clambering  toward 
him  over  some  small  casks.  He  gripped  his 
weapon  and  braced  himself  for  the  assault, 
but  at  that  moment  Smalley  was  flung  vio 
lently  against  him,  knocking  him  backward 
so  that  he  tripped  upon  something  under 
foot  and  fell,  the  spanner  flying  from  his 
hand.  The  flame  from  the  lamp  suddenly 
expired  and  the  whole  place  was  plunged  in 
utter  blackness. 

Deane  struggled  to  his  feet.  "  Where  are 
you,  Sam? " 

"H-h-ere!"  gasped  a  panting  breath. 
"S-s-trikealight!" 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  scuffle,  then  the 
clean  impact  of  heavy  blows,  followed  by  a 
smothered  cry  of  pain.  At  his  elbow  Deane 
heard  someone  groping  and  stumbling,  and 
muttering  in  patois.  He  stepped  back  warily, 
then  pulled  out  his  match-box  and  was  about 
to  strike  a  light  when  a  flame  shot  up  close  at 

124 


The  Countess  Diane 

hand,  followed  by  a  vivid  blaze.  The  shat 
tered  lamp  had  ignited  some  inflammable 
rubbish,  which  flared  up  fiercely. 

The  first  thing  to  meet  Deane's  eyes, 
blinded  by  the  light,  was  the  face  of  his 
friend,  who  was  lying  across  the  body  of  the 
innkeeper;  the  second  was  a  burly  fellow 
who  rushed  at  him  head  down.  Deane 
sprang  aside  and  struck  out  with  his  fist. 
The  man  went  down,  and  the  artist,  without 
waiting  to  see  what  was  coming  next,  leaped 
to  the  door  behind  which  the  Countess  was 
imprisoned  and  threw  out  the  bar.  As  he 
did  so  something  came  flying  from  the  dark 
ness  and  crashed  against  his  forehead.  The 
shock  staggered  him,  but  he  was  able  to  re 
cover  himself  enough  to  fling  open  the  door. 

By  this  time  one  corner  of  the  cellar  was  a 
mass  of  seething  flame,  and  the  foul  air  was 
filled  with  pungent  fumes.  Deane  wiped 
his  eyes,  which  were  obscured  by  some  smart 
ing  substance,  and,  catching  a  glimpse  of 
the  Countess  standing  in  the  brilliant  light, 
drew  her  toward  him.  Smalley  scrambled 
to  his  feet.  The  only  other  person  appeared 
to  be  the  innkeeper,  who,  even  as  Deane 

125 


The  Countess  Diane 

glanced  at  him,  climbed  upon  his  legs  and 
rushed  for  the  steps. 

"  Come ! "  panted  Smalley.  "  The  place  is 
on  fire!" 

A  fit  of  coughing  seized  Deane.  Unable 
to  speak,  he  gripped  the  Countess  by  the 
wrist  and  staggered  toward  the  steps.  Smal 
ley,  pausing  to  pick  up  the  spanner  which  he 
had  dropped  when  he  clinched  with  the  inn 
keeper,  followed  him.  The  light  was  now 
obscured  by  the  smoke,  but  there  was  enough 
to  enable  them  to  grope  their  way,  half- 
smothered,  to  the  door.  Deane  threw  his 
shoulder  against  it. 

"Locked — bolted!"  he  gasped. 

"  Look  out! "  cried  Smalley,  thrusting  him 
aside.  With  two  heavy  blows  of  the  big 
spanner  he  burst  out  the  rotten  panel,  and 
shoving  his  hand  through,  slid  the  bolt.  The 
next  instant  they  were  groping  their  way  up 
the  stone  steps.  Not  a  soul  was  in  sight  as 
they  slipped  out  of  the  front  door  of  the  inn 
and  into  the  road.  It  was  twilight  and  a  fog 
seemed  to  be  driving  in.  Deane's  head  was 
swimming  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  smart 
ing  pain  across  the  forehead,  but  he  stag- 
126 


The  Countess  Diane 

gered  on,  clinging  to  the  wrist  of  the  Count 
ess.  Smalley  glanced  at  him  sharply. 

"Put  on  your  lunettes!"  said  he;  "your 
face  is  all  bloody! " 

Deane  obeyed  mechanically.  He  was 
dimly  conscious  that  the  Countess  had  made 
some  exclamation  and  that  she  was  holding 
him  by  one  arm  while  Smalley  half-led,  half- 
dragged  him  by  the  other.  Suddenly  the  au 
tomobile  loomed  up  gigantic  and  grotesque 
in  front  of  him,  and  to  the  artist  it  seemed 
to  be  swaying  like  a  vessel  in  a  heavy  sea. 

"Start  the  motor!"  came  Smalley's  voice 
in  French  and  from  a  long  distance  away. 
Instinctively  Deane  tried  to  stagger  to  the 
front  of  the  car,  but  some  pressure  from  be 
hind  seemed  urging  him  into  a  dark  opening 
before  him.  He  lurched  forward  heavily, 
heard  a  grinding,  tearing  sound,  and  then  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  earth  had  torn  from 
its  axis  and  the  entire  planet  was  whirling 
madly  through  space.  With  an  infinite  ef 
fort  he  recovered  his  sense  of  the  actuality 
of  things,  and  as  he  did  so  discovered  that  he 
was  propped  in  one  corner  of  the  limousine, 
his  head  resting  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
127 


The  Countess  Diane 

Countess,  while  her  arm  was  about  his  neck. 
For  some  bizarre  reason  his  first  apprecia 
tion  of  this  position  was  one  of  amusement. 
He  chuckled. 

"  You  got  that  fight  that  you  were  wish 
ing  for ! "  he  mumbled,  then  slid  gently  into 
utter  oblivion. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Deane  thought  that  he  was  driving  a  big, 
new-model,  six-cylinder  comet  of  150  che- 
vaux,  and  was  doing  his  little  best  to  dodge 
the  other  comets  and  pass  without  fouling 
the  small,  two-cylinder  stars  and  motor-cycle 
meteorites  which  he  overtook  on  his  record- 
smashing  run  from  Polaris  to  the  Southern 
Cross,  via  La  Vole  Lactee.  But  the  track 
(was  greasy  and  the  other  comets  showed  no 
sense  of  traffic  regulations,  and,  to  make 
matters  more  confusing,  Sam  Smalley  kept 
repeating  monotonously:  "How  are  you 
feeling  now,  old  boy?  How  are  you  feeling 

now '  until  Deane  became  thoroughly 

irritated. 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  he  snapped,  then  opened 
his  eyes  and  looked  about  him  in  bewilder 
ment., 

128 


The  Countess  Diane 

He  was  lying  upon  a  rug  at  the  side  of 
the  road.  The  stars  were  out  and  twinkling 
brightly  overhead — and  something  disagree 
ably  tight  was  encircling  his  head. 

"Where  is  the  Countess?"  were  his  first 
words.  Mr.  Smalley  laughed. 

"  Not  such  a  great  way  off,"  said  he  dryly. 

"I  am  here,"  said  a  soft  voice,  and  the 
artist  discovered,  with  a  quickening  of  the 
heart-action  which  went  far  to  restore  him, 
that  his  head  was  resting  in  the  lap  of  the 
girl  herself,  while  one  of  her  hands  was 
clasping  his  own. 

"  Oh,"  said  he  contentedly.  "  That's  so. 
We  got  you." 

'  Yes,"  said  the  soft  voice,  "  you  have  got 
me." 

"What  happened?"  asked  the  artist, 
struggling  to  sit  up. 

".Things,"  replied  Mr.  Smalley  laconi 
cally. 

"Don't  try  to  get  up  just  yet!"  mur 
mured  the  Countess. 

"What  is   the   matter?"    asked   Deane, 
much  ashamed  of  his  weakness.     "Did  I 
faint,  or  something?" 
129 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  You  did  both,"  said  Mr.  Smalley.  "  The 
loss  of  a  liter  or  so  of  blood  will  sometimes 
make  one  faint.  But  it  will  do  you  no  harm. 
You  were  always  a  hot-headed  young 
man." 

"For  shame!"  cried  the  Countess  indig 
nantly.  "He  is  nothing  of  the  sort — and 
besides,  I  should  like  to  know  where  I  would 
be  now  if  he  were  not ! " 

The  artist  struggled  again  to  assume  a 
less  helpless  position,  and  was  this  time  suc 
cessful. 

"How  do  you  feel?"  asked  the  Countess 
anxiously. 

"  Oh,  I  feel  all  right,  thanks,"  answered 
Deane  untruthfully.  "Just  a  little  giddy 
and  horribly  thirsty.  What  are  you  looking 
at,  Sam?" 

"I  am  looking  for  a  blaze,"  said  Mr. 
Smalley,  "  and  very  much  disappointed  that 
I  do  not  see  it.  There  has  been  plenty  of 
time." 

'You  ought  to  be  glad,"  observed  the 
artist,  "  unless  you  are  tired  of  your  car." 

"By  George,  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
the  car!"  cried  Mr.  Smalley.  "You  don't 

130 


SMAl.U'.Y 


The  Countess  Diane 

see  any  sign  of  a  fire  over  there,  do  you?" 
he  inquired  anxiously. 

"  Never  mind  the  fire,  Cousin  Sam,"  said 
the  Countess.  "Go  and  get  Mr.  Deane  a 
drink  of  water." 

Mr.  Smalley  filled  a  cup  from  a  spring  by 
the  roadside  and,  with  his  eyes  turned  fear 
fully  in  the  direction  of  the  town,  handed  it 
to  the  Countess,  who  held  it  to  the  lips  of  the 
artist. 

When  he  had  emptied  the  cup  four 
times,  Mr.  Deane  expressed  his  desire  to 
go  on. 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  feel  strong 
enough?"  asked  the  Countess. 

"  Perhaps,  if  he  were  to  sit  in  front,  the 
breeze  might  revive  him,"  suggested  Mr. 
Smalley.  "I  do  not  mind  sitting  inside 
with  my  cousin,  Archie,"  he  added  with  a 
grin. 

"That  is  absurd!"  said  the  Countess 
sharply.  "  Suppose  that  he  were  to  faint 
again?  He  might  pitch  out  into  the 
road!" 

'That  is  true,"  assented  Mr.  Smalley. 
"  Then  we  would  have  to  stop  again  and  pick 
isii 


The  Countess  Diane 

him  up.  Besides,  I  fancy  that  he  will  be 
more  comfortable  inside." 

The  Countess'  eyes  flashed  in  the  darkness, 
but  she  did  not  answer. 

Assisted  by  his  friend,  the  artist  got  upon 
his  feet.  For  a  moment  his  head  swam  and 
he  might  have  fallen  had  not  the  Countess, 
who  was  watching  him  closely,  thrown  her 
arm  about  his  shoulders. 

"Do  you  feel  any  stronger  now?"  asked 
Mr.  Smalley. 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right!"  answered  Deane 
irritably.  "Just  a  bit  unsteady.  I  must 
have  lost  quite  a  lot  of  blood." 

"  Somebody  smashed  you  in  the  head  with 
a  bottle  of  wine,"  said  Mr.  Smalley,  "  and 
cut  an  artery  in  your  forehead.  We  had  a 
hard  time  to  stop  the  leak." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  heartless!  "  cried  the 
Countess  indignantly.  "  Have  you  no  sym 
pathy?" 

"  Too  much  sympathy  is  not  good  for  a 
young  man,"  replied  Mr.  Smalley  enigmati 
cally.  "  Otherwise  I  should1  have  kissed  his 
other  hand •" 

"  Will  you  please  stop  talking  absurdities 


The  Countess  Diane 

and  help  me  to  get  him  into  the  car?"  ex 
claimed  the  Countess,  stamping  her  foot  an 
grily. 

Scorning  all  asistance,  which  was  none  the 
less  rendered  him,  Deane  crawled  into  the 
limousine  and  slumped  down  in  the  corner. 

"Shall  I  get  inside  also?"  asked  Mr. 
Smalley.  "  I  can  help  to  steady  him  when 
the  car  sways." 

"  No,"  said  the  Countess  decidedly.  "  You 
can  get  up  in  front.  You  would  not  care  if 
his  head  went  through  the  side  of  the  car- 
rossene,  and,  besides,  he  needs  room  to 
stretch  out." 

"  But  where  is  he  going  to  rest  his  head?  " 
persisted  Mr.  Smalley  solicitously. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  his  head,"  replied  the 
Countess,  in  a  tone  somewhat  more  sharp 
than  the  innocent  query  appeared  to  war 
rant.  '  You  climb  up  in  front  and  ask  the 
chauffeur  to  show  you  how  to  start  a  big  car 
without  breaking  something,  Cousin  Sam!" 

"Pax — oh,  pax!"  cried  Smalley,  hur 
riedly  complying  with  the  girl's  suggestion. 

The  Countess  slammed  the  door  and 
turned  the  latch.  The  chauffeur  started  the 
133 


The  Countess  Diane 

motor,  climbed  aboard  and  the  car  forged 
slowly  ahead.  The  artist  wedged  himself 
back  in  his  corner  and  closed  his  eyes,  for  his 
head  was  still  giddy. 

"Lean  against  me,"  said  the  Countess,  a 
trifle  breathlessly,  "and  rest  your  head  on 
my  arm." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  muttered 
the  artist.  "  Suppose  the  thing  begins  to 
bleed  again?" 

"Do  you  think  that  I  am  afraid  of  blood 
when  my — my  friend  is  hurt?  I  will  tighten 
the  compress  if  it  does! " 

"  I  wish  you  would  loosen  the  beastly 
thing!"  said  Deane  fretfully.  "It  hurts 
like  the  mischief!" 

"Poor  fellow!"  murmured  the  Countess 
softly.  "I  don't  dare  loosen  it;  you  haven't 
any  more  blood  to  spare.  Come — don't  be 
silly;  stretch  out  on  the  seat  as  much  as  you 
can  and  let  me  steady  your  head  in  my 
arms." 

The  chauffeur  was  -driving  fast  through 
the  darkness,  and  the  swaying  of  the  car  was 
throwing  the  artist's  head  against  the  cush 
ions  in  a  way  that  was  intolerable.  But,  like 

134 


The  Countess  Diane 

most  men  who  have  been  always  blessed  with 
robust  health,  he  had,  or  thought  he  had,  an 
intense  distaste  for  being  coddled.  If  there 
was  any  coddling  to  be  done  Mr.  Deane  had 
always  preferred  to  do  it  himself. 

"I'm  all  right,  thanks,"  he  answered,  a  bit 
gruffly. 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  the  Countess.  "  Your 
poor  head  is  bobbing  about  like  a  duck  on  the 
water.  Come,  don't  act  like  a  cross  baby." 
She  placed  her  arms  gently  but  firmly  about 
the  shoulders  of  the  astonished  young  man, 
turned  him  sidewise  upon  the  seat,  then  drew 
him  down  until  he  was  lying  upon  his  side 
with  his  bandaged  head  held  firmly  in  her 
arms. 

"  Is  that  better? "  she  asked. 

"  Lots.    But  it  will  tire  you  out." 

"  I  don't  tire  easily.  Things  never  tire  me, 
only  people — like  Cousin  Sam!" 

"  Sam  likes  to  be  an  ass  sometimes,"  mur 
mured  Deane.  "He  does  it  on  purpose. 
You  must  not  mind " 

"  Don't  talk ! "  said  the  Countess.  "  Rest. 
Try  to  get  a  nap." 

The  artist  tried  obediently,  but  either  the 

135 


The  Countess  Diane 

change  of  position  or  some  other  subtle  cause 
had  so  restored  him  that  the  need  of  sleep 
became  quite  superfluous.  His  violent  head 
ache  gradually  subsided,  and  he  became  rap 
idly  more  and  more  appreciative  of  the  fact 
that  the  Countess  was  gently  stroking  that 
part  of  his  head  not  covered  by  the 
compress. 

"Countess?"  he  asked  presently. 

'Yes?    Oh,  I  thought  you  were  asleep." 

'You  must  be  tired — are  you  not?" 

"No.    Go  to  sleep!" 

"  I  can't." 

"Why  not?  Does  the  head  still  hurt 
you?"  She  leaned  over  him,  and  Deane 
could  see  her  great  eyes  glowing  through 
the  dusk  of  the  limousine.  She  had  flung  off 
the  Breton  coifFe,  and  a  stray  wisp  of  her 
hair  fell  across  his  cheek. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  it— is  not  that." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"Thinking  too  hard." 

"What  about?" 

"You." 

"  But  you  must  not.  I  am  safe  now,"  the 
girl's  voice  softened,  "  thanks  to  you." 

136 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  It  was  just  as  much  Sam." 

"Oh,  was  it,  indeed?  Was  it  Sam  who 
backed  that  great  brute  against  the  wall  and 
told  him  to  give  me  up  or  "  —the  Countess' 
low  voice  grew  fierce— "or  he  would  never 
leave  the  room  alive?  And  when  he  refused, 
was  it  Sam  who  said  to" — she  shuddered — 
"  to  heat  the  poker — tell  me,  would  you  have 
used  the  poker?"  The  Countess  shuddered 
again. 

"  Oh,  probably  not.  Sam  is  a  great  talker, 
isn't  he?" 

"  That  is  just  it.  He  really  tells  things — 
and  to  hear  you  talk  one  would  think  that 
you  were  meant  to  sit  on  a  silk  cushion  with 
a  pink  bow  tied  around  your  neck!  Fancy 
my  wondering  if  you  could  fight ! " 

"  I  can't.  Sam  is  the  scrapper.  If  I  could 
fight  I  would  not  be  lying  here  like  a  sick 
canary  with  my  feathers  ruffed  up.  Sam 
did  all  the  fighting,  but  he's  not  hurt." 

*  You  must  go  to  sleep  1 "  said  the  Count 
ess.  "I  forgot." 

"Can't." 

"Why  not?  What  are  you  thinking  of 
now?"  * 

137 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  Still  of  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then  the 
Countess  said  softly: 

"  There  is  nothing  more  to  think  about — • 
is  there?  If  your  friends  can't  harbor  me, 
and  they  really  should  not,  I  know  of  several 
places— 

"It's  not  that.  The  Cuttings  will  never 
let  you  go." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

Deane's  heart  beat  wildly,  but  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  words  utterly  failed  him. 
There  was  another  pause. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing,"  said  the  Count 
ess  firmly.  "You  have  been  talking  too 
much  and  are  getting  excited.  I  can  feel 
your  heart  beat.  Go  to  sleep,  there's  a — 
a 

"A  what?" 

The  girl  did  not  reply.  The  big  car  tore 
on  through  the  night,  rocking  and  swaying, 
its  single,  blazing  eye  but  half-seeing  the 
road.  Trees  and  houses  flitted  by.  ,The  pow 
erful  motor  ran  with  the  rhythm  of  a  solar 
system. 

Presently  the  artist  sighed  deeply. 

138 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  In  pain? "  whispered  the  Countess,  bend 
ing  lower. 

"  In  a  way — yes." 

"  The  head  hurting  again? " 

"The  head?  Oh,  dear,  no!  I'd  quite  for 
gotten  that  I  had  one." 

"What  then?" 

"  Do — do  you  really  want  to  know? " 

There  was  a  pause;  then:  "Yes,"  softly. 

"  Then— then— Countess? " 

;<  Yes? "  The  mass  of  hair  drooped  lower, 
and  again  a  wisp  trailed  across  the  face  of 
the  artist,  and,  once  again,  words  which  had 
risen  so  effervescently  to  his  lips  so  many 
times  hefore  shamelessly  deserted  him. 

"Aren't  you  getting  tired?"  he  asked. 

"  No ! "  replied  the  Countess,  a  bit  shortly. 

"  Let  me  sit  up ! "  exclaimed  the  artist  des 
perately,  attributing  his  unaccustomed  em 
barrassment  and  lack  of  courage  to  the  help 
lessness  of  his  position. 

"  No.  Keep  still.  You  will  start  it  bleed 
ing  again  if  you  wriggle!" 

"  But  you  must  be  tired! " 

"But  I  am  not!  The  car  is  running 
smoothly  now.  Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep? " 
139 


The  Countess  Diane 

Do  you  really  want  to  know?  " 
Yes — if  you  know  yourself." 

Well,  then " 

Yes?" 

Then— Countess " 


"  Stop  *  Countessing '  me.  My  name  is 
Diane.  Call  me  that  if  you  like.  I  think 
that  you  have  earned  the  right;  don't  you? " 

"  I  don't  think  that  I've  earned  anything 
but  hard  names,  but,  I  must  say,  I  like  Diane 
better  than  Countess." 

"  Very  well — why  can't  you  sleep?" 

"Can't  you  guess?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  guess.  I  want  you  to  tell 
me.  Don't  squirm  so!  You  are  harder  to 
hold  than  a  fox-terrier!" 

"Well,  then,  Count — I  mean  Diane — I 
— I  love  you ! " 

There  was  a  silence  which  lasted  for  at 
least  ten  seconds ;  then,  to  the  utter  confusion 
of  the  artist,  the  Countess  leaned  back 
against  the  cushions  and  began  to  laugh. 
Spontaneous  as  her  mirth  appeared,  how 
ever,  the  ear  of  the  young  man  was  quick  to 
detect  the  falsity  of  its  note. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  he  de- 

140 


The  Countess  Diane 

manded,  at  the  same  time  struggling  to  sit 
upright.  But  a  man  curled  up  on  his  side  in 
the  limousine  of  a  swiftly-moving  motor-car, 
with  a  strong  and  determined  young  lady 
gripping  his  head  in  both  arms,  is  about  as 
powerless  as  a  cab-horse  down  on  the 
asphalt. 

"Stop  wriggling!"  cried  the  Countess, 
still  laughing. 

"  Then  stop  laughing,"  replied  Deane.  "  I 
must  say,  I  don't  see " 

"  Poor  fellow! "  interrupted  the  Countess. 
"Do  you  always  feel  that  you  have  to  say 
that?  Or  were  you  merely  taking  mental 
notes " 

"  Hush,  Diane ! "  The  breathless  quaver 
which  gave  the  lie  to  the  mockery  in  the  girl's 
voice  imbued  the  artist  with  a  sudden 
strength. 

He  freed  his  head  from  the  Countess* 
arms  and  sat  upright. 

"Don't  be  silly,  Diane!"  he  said,  taking 
both  of  her  hands  firmly  in  his.  "I  have 
loved  you  from  the  moment  that  I  first  saw 
you  digging  echille  in  the  sand,  and  the  only 
wonder  is  that  I  have  been  able  to  keep  from 


The  Countess  Diane 

telling  you  so  half  a  dozen  times.  I  did  not 
because — well — it  did  not  seem  quite  fair — 
too  much  like  asking  a  reward,  you  know, 
for  what  should  have  been  done  anyway  out 
of  mere  chivalry.  Now  it  is  hard  because — 
oh,  because  you  might  not  care  to  hear  it. 
Do  you?" 

The  Countess  Diane  tried  feebly  to  with 
draw  her  hands,  but  failed.  Then  she  tried 
somewhat  breathlessly  to  speak,  but  failed 
again. 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  it  is  right  for  me 
to  tell  you  how  I  love  you,  even  now,"  con 
tinued  Deane;  "because,  after  all,  you  have 
only  known  me  for  a  day — twenty- four 
hours!  It  seems  longer  than  that — and  for 
all  you  know  of  me  I  might  be  anything:  an 
opium  fiend,  or  an  ex-convict,  or  a  card- 
sharp,  or " 

"Hush — oh,  hush!"  cried  a  low,  sweet 
voice.  '  You  know  that  I  would  trust  you 
absolutely — and — and  I  will  believe  you — if 
you  tell  me  that  you  really,  really  love  me! " 

"  Diane ! "  cried  the  artist.  "  I  adore  you ! 
I  am  mad  about  you !  That  is  what  makes 

it  so  hard  to  tell  you,  dear " 

142 


The  Countess  Diane 

"And  you  are  not  saying  it  because — be 
cause—  The  Countess  was  leaning  to 
ward  him,  her  lips  quite  close  to  his  ear,  for 
the  car  was  at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  the  hum 
of  swiftly-moving  machinery  loud,  and  her 
own  voice  a  trifle  faint.  Before  she  could 
finish  her  speech  there  was  a  sudden  lurch 
of  the  car,  or  it  may  have  been  natural  af 
finity,  or,  perhaps,  some  swift  movement  on 
the  part  of  the  young  man ;  at  any  rate,  the 
artist  found  his  arms  full  to  overflowing  of 
the  Countess,  the  answer  to  whose  question 
was  given  after  a  manner  of  such  deep  and 
heartfelt  sincerity  that  her  last,  lingering 
doubt  was  swept  away  in  a  wild  ecstasy  of 
conviction. 

Presently  the  Countess  observed  with  a 
sigh  which  had  in  it  nothing  of  sadness,  but 
was  rather  an  effort  to  supply  her  system 
with  the  requisite  oxygen: 

"  AlorSj  if  you  can  still  love  me,  hideous 
as  I  am  en  Bretonne,  perhaps  you  will  tire 
of  me  less  soon  than  you  have  of  the  others ! " 

"Darling,  there  are  no  others!  There 
never  were!  I  did  not  love  them — I  only 
painted  them!" 

143 


The  Countess  Diane. 

"  And  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  keep  on 
painting  them?" 

"  And  loving  you ! " 

"  If  you  ever  loved  another  woman,"  said 
Diane  fiercely,  "  do  you  know  what  I  would 
do?" 

"Kill  her?" 

"Yes.    And  then " 

"Kill  me?" 

"No,"  with  a  sob,  "myself!  Isn't  it 
p-p-pathetic " 

"  Don't  you  think  that  we  are  going  dan 
gerously  fast?"  asked  Diane  presently. 
"  We  must  be  almost  there ! " 

Deane  rapped  sharply  on  the  glass. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  slow  down!"  he 
cried. 

"  There  is  no  danger! "  shouted  Mr.  Smal- 
ley  in  answer. 

"  Perhaps  there's  not — but  if  you  felt  as 

I  do  I  guess  you  would  want  to  take  it  a  bit 
easily." 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it! "  assented  Mr.  Smal- 
ley,  and  even  in  the  darkness  his  friend 
could  see  him  grin. 

The  car  slowed  down, 
a  44 


The  Countess  Diane 

"Only  think!"  whispered  the  Countess. 
"  We  will  soon  have  to  separate ! " 

"  We  must  be  together  as  much  as  we  can 
until  then!"  said  Mr.  Deane,  putting  the 
principle  into  immediate  action. 

"  How  soon,"  said  the  Countess,  when  op 
portunity  offered,  "  do  you  expect  to  start 
upon  your  tour  with  Cousin  Sam? " 

"  That  is  all  off  now." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  it  would  interfere  with  another 
tour  which  I  expect  to  make  in  about  a 
month." 

"Another  tour?    Who  with?" 

"My  wife." 

The  Countess  breathed  quickly.  '*Are 
you  going  to  be  married  as  soon  as  that?" 
she  asked,  with  as  much  naivete  as  a  very 
rapid  respiration  would  permit. 

"  I  would  not  wait  that  long,"  said  Mr. 
Deane,  "  if  it  were  not  necessary  for  my 
fiancee  to  first  come  of  age." 

"But   don't  you   think,"   suggested   the 
Countess,  "  that  a  little  more  time  might  be 
required   thoroughly   to   convince   yourself 
that  you  are  truly  in  love  with  her? " 
145 


The  Countess  Diane 

"  I  wish,"  said  the  young  man  sadly,  "  that 
I  could  be  equally  sure  that  she  were  as 

much  in  love  with  me " 

.  "Isn't  it  wonderful!"  whispered  the 
Countess,  her  lips  a  quarter  of  an  inch  from 
the  artist's  ear. 

"What,  Diane?" 

"That  two  people  can  love  each  other 

.  "  I  think,"  said  a  dry,  sarcastic  voice,  "  that 
it  is  even  more  wonderful  how  a  third  per 
son  can  he  so  utterly  ignored  as  to " 

••"  Sam  I "  cried  the  artist,  awakening  to  the 
fact  that  the  car  had  stopped  and  that  his 
friend  was  standing  beside  it  with  the  latch 
of  the  open  door  in  his  hand.  "  You  shame 
less  old  eavesdropper ! " 

"  If  you  call  stopping  the  car,  hitting  the 
horn,  getting  out,  opening  the  door  and  an 
nouncing  three  times  that  we  have  arrived, 
eavesdropping,"  answered  Mr.  Smalley, 
"then  I  plead  guilty!  Are  you  feeling  a 
little  better?" 

His  grin  clove  the  darkness  like  a  search 
light. 

"Better!"  echoed  the  rapturous  artist  "I 

146 


The  Countess  Diane 

never  felt  so  well  in  all  of  my  life — my  hith 
erto  worthless  life.  Go  in  and  stir  up  the 
Cuttings,  Sam,  and  tell  them  that  I  crave 
their  hospitality  for  my  fiancee,  the  Countess 
Diane  Roubanoff,  and  myself." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"Nothing,"  cried  Mrs.  "Jim,"  when  she 
and  her  husband  had  been  put  entirely  en 
rapport  with  the  situation,  "  could  have  been 
more  excellently  timed!" 

The  pretty  young  matron,  her  husband, 
and  Mr.  Deane  were  holding  a  council  of 
war.  On  the  arrival  of  the  refugees  the 
Countess  had  been  petted  and  promptly  put 
to  bed;  the  unhappy  Mr.  Smalley  had  been 
dispatched  to  return  the  borrowed  car  with 
such  explanations  as  might  occur  to  his  in 
genious  mind,  while  Mr.  Deane,  his  head 
having  been  dressed  by  a  surgeon,  had  been 
also  put  to  bed,  but  had  stubbornly  declined 
to  sleep  until  the  immediate  future  had  been 
disposed  of. 

"Why  well  timed?"  he  asked.  "I  say, 
Edith — did  you  ever  see  such  eyes  and  hair? " 

"Because  Jim  and  I  are  going  over  to 
England  for  Henley  week,  and  after  that 
147 


The  Countess  Diane 

we  are  going  to  tour  Scotland,,  We  are 
taking  the  car  with  us." 

"Well?" 

"  The  Countess  shall  come,  too,  of  course. 
We  were  wondering  who  to  ask.  Before  we 
return  she  will  have  come  of  age  and  can 
marry  you  or  any  one  else  she  pleases." 

"  She  would  never  be  safe  here  in  France," 
said  Mr.  Cutting,  who  had  won  his  own 
bride  while  hounded  by  the  French  police. 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  should  have  prom 
ised  Sam  Smalley  to  go  touring  with  him, 
Archie,"  said  Mrs  Cutting  demurely,  "as 
otherwise  we  might  have  asked  you,  too. 
However,  I  know  of  an  awfully  attractive 
guardsman " 

"Oh,  rot!"  growled  Mr.  Deane.  "Of 
course  I  am  going  with  you,  Edith.  My 
tour  with  Sam  is  all  off.  He's  gone  and 
smashed  up  his  car  I " 

•  •  •  •  • 

Six  weeks  later  found  a  small  runabout 
car  skipping  merrily  over  the  Devon  hills. 
On  the  luggage-carrier  behind  there  was 
lashed  a  gleamingly-new  sole-leather  trunk. 
Driving  the  car  was  a  handsome  young  man 

148 


• 


The  Countess  Diane 

with  a  radiant  face  and  a  clearly-defined 
and  recent  scar  across  his  forehead,  while  on 
the  seat  beside  him  was  a  very  pretty  girl 
with  sapphire  eyes,  enough  red  hair  for  two, 
and  a  great  many  very  white  teeth.  She  had 
been  a  wife  for  exactly  two  hours  and  eight 
een  minutes,  according  to  the  auto-watch 
which  hung  just  in  front  of  her. 

"Are  we  almost  there — husband?"  she 
asked  with  a  breathless  little  laugh. 

'  Yes,  Diane.  It  is  the  dearest  little  place. 
Years  ago  I  used  to  come  here  to  paint. 
Are  you  tired,  dear?" 

"  Tired?  No,  but  the  road  is  so  steep,  and 
one  really  should  not  try  to  drive  even  a 
little  car  like  this  with  only  one  hand — even 
for  a  minute — and — and — no,  dearest,  you 
must  look  where  you  are  going,  or  else — 
stop!  Just  think  how  awful  it  would  be  if 
anything  should  happen  to  us  now! " 


THE    END 


149 


A     000  073  072     1 


